Post: Imagine looking through a window at any environment that is particularly significant to you. Reflect on the scene, paying close attention to the relation between what you are seeing and why it is meaningful to you. Please limit your statement to 300 words.
The catcher in the rye
In the rye, thousands of little kids are romping and hopping like rabbits. Even if they are running and don't look where they are going, no crazy cliffs will wait for the wilder kids to fall off. They are kids, so they must be happy and carefree.
But the fancy vanished. I saw only one kid running before me. I beckoned friendly to him; he stopped, stared at me. He got scared.
The rye field of my hometown had a funny smell that didn't smell like any place else. But I was not in the mood to figure out what the smell was. I kept thinking about the kid that ran past me, his fearful look, his heavy bags that dragged the skinny body down, and his big jacket that made him funny. Funny? But I felt pretty sad.
Laughters of hyenas drove me crazy. I mean, two cruel men were laughing. Kids had to call them "masters". Their duties were to brainwash, exploit and mistreat them. Suddenly, I felt I ought to sock the guys in the jaw or something. But I got the kid on my brains again, and I couldn't get him off.
"Be a hero in the battle of life." I cried. Yet no one answered.The kid had lost himself in the rye.
Battle? Life?? Fight??? But the "soldiers" got no weapons like knowledge or money.
Stubbornly, I keep looking out of the window: a big boy walk into the mountains, guys join him, together they build cozy classrooms. Kids read and write; they play and hop in the rye.
I feel so happy all of a sudden. The way they keep running and hopping. I don't know why. Maybe it is just that kids are so nice and all. They turn to me and smile.
I just want to ask: does it seem to offensive, weird or hard to understand? Can you find my aspirations and concerns those kids after reading? Thanks!
The catcher in the rye
In the rye, thousands of little kids are romping and hopping like rabbits. Even if they are running and don't look where they are going, no crazy cliffs will wait for the wilder kids to fall off. They are kids, so they must be happy and carefree.
But the fancy vanished. I saw only one kid running before me. I beckoned friendly to him; he stopped, stared at me. He got scared.
The rye field of my hometown had a funny smell that didn't smell like any place else. But I was not in the mood to figure out what the smell was. I kept thinking about the kid that ran past me, his fearful look, his heavy bags that dragged the skinny body down, and his big jacket that made him funny. Funny? But I felt pretty sad.
Laughters of hyenas drove me crazy. I mean, two cruel men were laughing. Kids had to call them "masters". Their duties were to brainwash, exploit and mistreat them. Suddenly, I felt I ought to sock the guys in the jaw or something. But I got the kid on my brains again, and I couldn't get him off.
"Be a hero in the battle of life." I cried. Yet no one answered.The kid had lost himself in the rye.
Battle? Life?? Fight??? But the "soldiers" got no weapons like knowledge or money.
Stubbornly, I keep looking out of the window: a big boy walk into the mountains, guys join him, together they build cozy classrooms. Kids read and write; they play and hop in the rye.
I feel so happy all of a sudden. The way they keep running and hopping. I don't know why. Maybe it is just that kids are so nice and all. They turn to me and smile.
I just want to ask: does it seem to offensive, weird or hard to understand? Can you find my aspirations and concerns those kids after reading? Thanks!
