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JenloNarrative

Page history last edited by PBworks 18 years, 6 months ago

Gazing up, newly lit and illuminating stars crowd the dusk sky. To my right my brother is staring at something with a bored and impatient look on his face. He rubs his sapphire eyes and amuses himself with the tiny button on the inside of his only blue, collared, shirt. The sun approaches the horizon cautiously casting an enigmatic orange glow on all that it touches. Ripples of colors dance across the sky, however, there is nothing spectacular about this sunset, nothing we cannot see at home, yet here there is no comparison. A remarkable sunset like this can be found anywhere yet my foreign surroundings make it a whole new vivid experience for me.

 

I am in Paris: the city of love and romance, to many a place only visited through books. Here we are, in the heart of the city, gazing out past the metal cage of one of the most renowned buildings in the world. Four metal pillars support and become one point; a rustic brown, metal, pyramid which can be distinguished from anywhere in Paris, a symbol of its strength and beauty. I tremble from the strong gusts of wind, from which the tower gives little protection. The icy, rusted railing stings my hands and stains them orange. Even with the frigid air, my brother’s impatience, and my parent’s disappearance to find shelter, the moments at the top of the Eiffel tower are unforgettable. What induces these memorable moments is not the incredible setting, but the various and distinctive people that surround me.

 

A couple on their honeymoon is standing right before the curve of the building, almost out of sight. They are lost in each other’s eyes, no words, just pure admiration. The handsome young man outlines his new wife’s pallor face with his gentle fingers. His mysteriously dark eyes long for her as her supple crimson lips brush his. Next to them, a boy leans against the supportive railing, perfectly content with his cherry lollipop. A ring of red stickiness surrounding his mouth does not interrupt him from total concentration on his treat. The boy’s rustled blonde hair blows into his chubby face as he tries with his tiny, gooey fingers, to push the now sticky hair away. His piercing blue eyes glance up at me giving into his childish innocence.

 

Beside my annoyed brother, an Asian family is quarreling in some foreign language. The petite wife keeps unknowingly nudging my brother into me until he practically stands on top of me. Her dark oval eyes, sleek charcoal hair, and flawless almond skin add a character to her frail stature. My brother’s eyes beg for sympathy but any attempt to stop her would go unnoticed.

 

Suddenly, I feel a tap on my bare shoulder. I turn to see a plump lady with red frizzy hair taking no time to ask what she wants. “Would you be so kind as to take our picture Miss?” she blurts out. She shoves the used, almost antique and faded black, camera into my frozen hands. Why did the weird family have to ask me? Even after their rushed family picture was taken, their constant chatter and squealing laughter never seem to end. Even with this relentless chitchat in the background, my determination to enjoy the atmosphere triumphed.

 

As the event approaches slowly, people arrive in waves, packing the small space with all it can hold. People come from many countries, different ethnicities, and a variety of cultures. Some of us come thousands of miles and others just a few blocks, but all of us are here in Paris, in this famous structure, on this brisk summer evening. It may not be the most amazing display, or a perfect night, but time stops when the sun finally reaches its resting point. At this moment it finally occurs to me. Looking around and seeing everyone so different, yet avidly watching the exact same display truly helped me realize so many things, things about the world I have been living in for seventeen years yet know nothing about. Looking around me, it is obvious that we all have distinctive lifestyles, yet know little about each other. Everyone is different, not necessarily in a bad way or a good way, just unique. No one looks alike, speaks identically, feels the same, or reacts in the exactly the same way, but we all live in the same world. We exist under the same setting sun and soon after we all look at the same sparkling stars. Even thousands of miles away from the comfort of home, everyone will only genuinely be themselves. Even at home everyone is distinctive, but not until my trip to Paris did I truly realize just how much different. This world can be seen in the colors of the sunset, never the same and indescribable.

 

I want to share this moment, not because it says anything about me in particular, but because its one of those times where I realized who I was. Being an individual is something that most people take for granted. Some people have never been able to experience what I have and cannot see all of the different people out there. Being me is one thing that no one can ever take from me.

 

CaitSkyNarrative

I found this Narrative to be moving and profound, so I decided my narrative lacked substance and tried to add more of a plot.

TheMecasBlogNarrative

I really enjoyed the analogies in this Narrative, especially with the clown. I need to use my analogies to describe my personality and give a deeper look into who I am.

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