Just a thing I had to do for one of my classes
Kwyjibo
Posts: 662
tell me what you like it or don't, or if you see any errors in grammar or anything I'm missing.
From Scott Street Bridge
by Pat Bailey
The pitch is steep and hard to traverse when it’s icy. The Scott Street Bridge holds a view over Missoula comparable to that of the notorious “M”. When I look out, I see the coalescence of nature and the urban sprawl of modern life. It is not a conventional bridge, championing a mighty river. This bridge allows machines to pass over other machines safely. This bridge brings cars over the railroad tracks. When I look out from the sidewalk at the bridge’s peak, I see my house. My backyard leads into the alleyway that continues under the bridge along the railway. There are train cars, and the tons of iron and machinery are beautiful in an industrial era sense. It is interesting that you can look right past the hitching station of the train yard and see the inspiring nature of the mountain pass.
Looking around in all directions you see signs of man’s presence in the world, and his coexistence with nature, and sometimes his domination of it. Train cars smash together every ten or fifteen minutes when they are being connected. It used to wake me up at night, but now I can’t sleep without it. The bridge is best in the night time. In the night there is less traffic, it is silent except for the train yard below. The warming glow of the city lights up the trees, mountains, and nature like accent lighting on fine art, or a dimming switch that hides the imperfections of an unattractive person, or a soft focus lens on a frightful face.
From Scott Street Bridge
by Pat Bailey
The pitch is steep and hard to traverse when it’s icy. The Scott Street Bridge holds a view over Missoula comparable to that of the notorious “M”. When I look out, I see the coalescence of nature and the urban sprawl of modern life. It is not a conventional bridge, championing a mighty river. This bridge allows machines to pass over other machines safely. This bridge brings cars over the railroad tracks. When I look out from the sidewalk at the bridge’s peak, I see my house. My backyard leads into the alleyway that continues under the bridge along the railway. There are train cars, and the tons of iron and machinery are beautiful in an industrial era sense. It is interesting that you can look right past the hitching station of the train yard and see the inspiring nature of the mountain pass.
Looking around in all directions you see signs of man’s presence in the world, and his coexistence with nature, and sometimes his domination of it. Train cars smash together every ten or fifteen minutes when they are being connected. It used to wake me up at night, but now I can’t sleep without it. The bridge is best in the night time. In the night there is less traffic, it is silent except for the train yard below. The warming glow of the city lights up the trees, mountains, and nature like accent lighting on fine art, or a dimming switch that hides the imperfections of an unattractive person, or a soft focus lens on a frightful face.
The most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway, is that its you, and that you're standing in the doorway.
I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.
I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.
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