Descriptive Essay

The city lights stand out like a busy constellation of streets and houses, while satellite cars weave their way around the

inverted sky. It's impossible to make sense of, except for the main strip which is a single mound of coloured, noisy light. I

like that the lights don't seem to get dimmer as they get farther away. They only get smaller and smaller until they slip

behind the bends of the maze-like valley.

There is a hill to the North of here that looms over the twinkle of the valley like a shadow. The sky is so low and dark that

it seems to merge with the hill. It's like I am standing at the mouth of a cave made of cloud and earth that hides the city

from the rest of the universe. From here, the river is nothing but a smudge at the bottom of the hill, and if you look closely,

you can almost see the water creeping along the bed like asnake trying to sneak away into darkness.

The wind blows through the valley with force and power, as if a greek god was common us. The wind blows my hair over

my eyes and to the side of my face. Like a shotgun blast dirt attempts to penetrate my eye balls but I automatically shut

them ensuring the safety of my pupils. The wind is keeping the valley alive and restless. When the wind blows like this

nothing remains a constant or the way it was before hand. I can watch the ordinary be rearranged and witness the rebirth of

something that once was old. Nothing is attached in the valley, everything is just as unattached as gypsies who roam the

country side liberated in their freedom.

It was raining earlier. Not hard rain like you would get on the coast, but the kind of rain I am used to at home. The kind

that,