Dead Like Me

name was Marion. It was at less one kilometer of every habitations. Every inhabitants could be reach the bar on foot. This bar was warm and there were cards games every time. A person who coming in, and who not living in the city was considered like a suspect or was looked at askance. It is more normal when this personne enter, he has been 'suspected'. It’s why this man who was dressed in black with a dark hood on his head and who not allowed a glimpse of his face. He sitted down at the bar and

guess You could think he's livin' at ease Like lovers of the open shore -- What's the matter? When you're sitting there with so much more --What's the matter? When you're wondering what the hell to do Are you wishing you were ugly like me? Blame it on the girls who know what to do Blame it on the boys who keep hitting/hating? on you Blame it on your mother for the things she said Blame it on your father but you know he's dead Blame it on the girls Blame it on the boys

|Themes |Wedding, death, |Horror, death, |Society – loneliness |Life: birth, growth, |Horror, drama, revenge. |Halloween, Love, | | |misunderstanding, love, |fantastic, comedy, |& eccentricity - envy|dead. |Love |adventure, comedy | | |revenge, caught between |love | |Love | | | |

Gin street & Beer lane At first sight it seems like both engraving have a very different message, Gin lane shows gin's harmful effects whereas Beer Lane shows the goods of beer. But if we have a closer look to them we can see that in fact they have a common message, they depict the bad aspects of alcohol. Gin lane looks like chaos, people are sick, like the woman on the stairs who has syphilis, they are all dying or already dead. If it's not because of sickness it's because of alcohol

just wanted to find this man and to take him to the prison. But it haven't been that simple. First, I went to the place that my boss described me like his house, it was a big one in grand avenue, in Chicago. But there was nothing really interesting in this house, exept a photo of a family, a man who was like 40, his wife, I supposed, who was like 30 and two kids. Behind the photo there was written " last day with them." I suddently started to think that it would be possible that the man was the

imagination and to the confines of Dublin, while Eveline’s hopes for a new life in Argentina dissolve on the docks of the city’s river. Little Chandler enviously fantasizes about the London press job of his old friend and his travels to liberal cities like Paris, but the shame he feels about such desires stops him from taking action to pursue similar goals. More often than offering a literal escape from a physical place, the stories tell of opportunities to escape from smaller, more personal restraints

Not mine Father - It was your mother's dream to ! Loosy - Yes but she is dead, dead in an accident and you loose your hands, it's cause of you if she is... Father - Stop ! But why, why don't you said me that the piano... Oh did you do that to deceive me, so just because you don't like the piano you decided to stop, to KILL my mind, my dream !? Loosy - Father you'r so ridiculus when you moove like that, just do it like the penguins. Father - Hush ! Loosy - It's cool ! Father - But you think

to talk about Edmund Burke’s Reflection and more generally: is way of thinking. Despite the fact that Burke was a philosopher of the 18th century he didn’t agreed with the age of reason created by his compeers. Burke was more attached by old beliefs like prejudice. That’s why for burke the revolution in France is doomed. He believes in prejudice to guide (control) the people through the following ages. For him prejudices allow the nation to react quickly to an emergency situation and are the only way

were unmoving, her denuded legs were inert. It was early in the morning, and I couldn't see anything in the dark, just a blond figure. She has been killed in the night. An anonymous call has averted the police and … I was there. I walked to her dead body and bent down near it. I touched the corpse and felt it frigid. As cold as the death. Her face had lost its beautiful pink colour which made her so cute. Now, her body was livid and colourless. “You know her, doc, don't you ? I asked at the physician

There were no flowers, there were no greens; but dead pine trees and crickets’ shells, crunching beneath ankle boots and red scarves and carrots staining the white sea. No meadowlarks, no bees. Not in that dreadful cold at least. Dead in the water, chromatic sparks flood that morning’s white. It was December, so frosty the entire lake of Sapporo stood still, acting like glazed windows to the baby blues aloof. Just along it’s rim and a couple of neglected fishing boats was one odd and rustic miniature