Using the starting phrases below (or similar phrases) continue writing descriptive, sense-oriented sentences about your own experiences. The sentences do not need to relate to each other or be about the same place, although they could ifyou so choose. Don't be afraid to imagine a place. Use active verbs. "Consider" is a verb stating condition and does not show action. As you work on these sentences, each could open a paragraph if you want to continue your thoughts.
____________________________________________________________________
The Streets _________________________________
Trees shade_________________________________
Buildings___________________________________
Light cascades_______________________________
The backdrop of sunset_________________________
Night noises_________________________________
Flies buzzed_________________________________
A man coughed_______________________________
In the grass_________________________________
The people here______________________________
Stone monuments_____________________________
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The street comes to an abrupt halt as we turned on to a path that meandered deep into the jungle. Even the path, though, becomes too overgrown to walk through and we begin to walk in the Rio Choco.
Trees shade us from what little sun there was, but mainly served to slow the rain to a steady drip.
There are only two or three shacks for the entire half-mile that we trudged through the jungle, and the term “shelter” describes them better than “house” because of their primitive appearance.
Light trickles down through mass of treetops along with the drops of rain.
Throughout the hike there is a constant backdrop of trees and rain and as if to make sure it doesn’t miss out on the attention, the river never stops bubbling and swooshing.
Mason slipped on one of the mossy rocks we were using as stepping stones and we all watched intently as he got up to make sure he was okay.
In the water was a plethora of rocks. There were so many so tightly packed that it did not hurt to tread atop them with bare feet.
The people here speak Spanish and my mind is wary from trying to keep up with what little conversation I can manage to comprehend.
The rock wall makes it possible for me to climb up and slowly step around behind the waterfall where I began to consider my plan to jump through it.
The pain in my chest from the impact stole the focus of mind, making it difficult to concentrate on coming up for air.
The Streets cut the city, perfect squares side by side, each an individual habitat in the garden.
Trees shade the river – dark water, the bottom unknowable.
Buildings hide transgressions. Walls, closed doors, are just other names for theatre curtains.
Light cascades across the sheet creating rippling shadows on the sleeping form.
The backdrop of sunset is the photo mat for paradise.
Night noises wrap up lazy summer days, drifting through screens to lull and intoxicate.
Flies buzzed just above the water, their wings creating tiny ripples.
A man coughed, reminding the room of death: wet, slow and difficult.
In the grass the breeze likes to linger, caressing each blade and absorbing the sweet smell.
The people here are warm and inviting with rough hands of workers that ultimately nurture at the end of the day.
Stone monuments commemorate the dead – entertainment for sweaty, careless tourists.
The streets lead a path dotted with sunlight patches, from the rays guided by oak branches.
People converse and eat on sidewalks around us, and we can't hear them, or barely see them as we walk on the sidewalk. It's nearly silent, few squirrels rustle in the trees with sparrows on the grass of Cathedral Square park.
Historical buildings with slim doorways, porches and iron railed balcony's greet us. Light cascades in and out from behind the clouds, just west of the Cathedral bell tower.
A man coughed in the middle of a conversation on the phone, during a lonely lunch.
The Streets are filled with purple, gold, and green-clad people, all drinking with the hopes that they will catch the perfect beads.
Trees shade the head stone where she lies motionless. The lilies will have to wait another day for sunlight.
Buildings line the street of the accident. My initial thought is of the safety of pedestrians.
Light cascades through the crack in the blinds like a single ray of hope for the new day. That’s all I need to get going.
The backdrop of a serene sunset in the face of impending doom is ironic. I find myself focusing on it as the eighteen-wheeler makes full impact on the driver’s side of my 97 Mustang.
Night noises make me restless. They just seem to be reminders that the new day will come before I have enough sleep to deal with it.
Flies buzzed around a dried burrito and chili cheese Fritos from the night before. I really need to teach my friends how to clean up after themselves.
A man coughed as if to get my attention. His smile showed signs of understanding, but his managerial title brought me no satisfaction. Policies always get in the way of my returns.
In the grass there were fresh footprints and the remains of an empty budlight can. It was obvious that this was where I decided to do the sand angel.
The people here are different from everywhere else I’ve ever lived. I think it’s a product of Mobile’s road system.
Stone monuments are scattered around the center of the enclosed garden. Surely this is a sacred place left unnoticed for generations.
Streets wriggle through herds of rooftops like serpents in tall weeds.
Trees varnish ridges and homesteads in shades of gold, apricot, and faded grey.
Whispers seep through the crack of my seat’s back, exposing hidden lovers’ schemes for bliss and infidelity.
The people calmly and patiently sit side by side waiting for the moment the plane comes to halt. Then they will bustle with haste, grabbing bags and pushing past seats.
A man coughs, exhaling pathogens into the cabin’s airtight bay.
Knees quiver, yearning for a smoke.
Ears snap and pop with the turn over in air pressure.
Newspapers rustle as Wall Street’s ticker tape from the “money” pages is ingested by a suit.
The streets dress up for Mardi gras as small trinkets enhance its curves.
A Tree shades a small house, as an old man would shelter his grandchild.
Light cascades through broken glass engrossing cream color walls in brilliant colors.
The backdrop of sunset, improves the romantic vibe of the evening.
Night noises confirm the hasty end of my weekend.
Flies buzzed over fish parts in the local market.
A man coughed up his lunch when he realized the cook spit in his food.
In the grass a snake slides through the thickness.
The people here cover their head awaiting the explosion that will near come.
Stone monuments document a time of war, and a time of peace.
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