Essay On Living On A Flat Plane, Great Problems And Opportunities

If you were reduced to living on a flat plane, what would be your great problems? Opportunities?

One fine morning, and a busy city street where at the bottom of the echelon stood I, ‘the lady bird’, a tiny little largesse of Virgin Mary, frightened of the big beast, befuddled where to go. What if a big beast comes out of the blue and seizes me away to some far cry?

In one way, it would be good for me as I detest travailing to reach my ‘hideaway’s’. You know I have many of them because most of the times I disremember my way to it, and it is sometimes hideous for me to see that some of my own genus has bootlegged my stock.

But, what if the big beast instead of carrying me away, eats al fresco. I was just brooding over the matter, when something tried to crinkle me under its jagged, stiletto heel. But who was she? A guidance counselor, who on one hand remonstrates for the rights of women; a red hot theme for custom admission essay these days. But, what of the prejudice she has done to me? I am only saved because of my crustacean back or otherwise she would have left me with a traumatize.

After a long travail, here I am again at the echelon, staring at an ensemble where a novice is discussing about a college admission essay with her comrades. Well, I have nothing to do with that, the only thing I am concerned is this luscious marshmallow in her hand. After toiling a lot, I finally reached it and while she was busy in her gossips, I had her marshmallow as a piecemeal.

Again after a long trek, I find myself standing in a meadow flowered with petunia. I decided to take a small nap of this funnel shaped; purple flower and it had been not more than a few minutes that I was astir by the frosty breeze which in a glimpse turned into a debauched wind.

Before this feral wind could blow me along to some detached locale, I hurriedly climbed down the sticky stem of my bed flower and rushed under the canopy of Lincoln green grass. I had some rest and camouflaged myself there until the wind came to its bleak.

Well, sometimes I feel my life is an escapade; with no onus, no clout over the populace; but one endeavor which I can accomplish and the common fill cannot is that I can skulk on the bald nut of those who have the clout over the innocent populace.

What if I am ‘a dim a dozen’, a minuscule in the world of whopping goblins, I have my own splendor, a loveliness of my own. Rather, I am a subject of poetic inspiration, a chaste entity on which symphony can be made. After all I am the tiny little largesse of Virgin Mary.

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