Once again I find myself at the intersection, trying to decide whether I should write again on this word or just click on to another site. What will I do? What will I do?
If I never see another blue car, it will be too soon. It was a beautiful day, just right for a nice drive to the beach. I left home with all my goodies – towel, sunscreen, water, and a great new book I had just picked up at the bookstore.
As I left my street to turn onto the highway, a blue car ran the light at the intersection and plowed into my left side. No sooner had my head cleared but another blue car hit the right side of my car. Both the drivers began to run over to check on me when yet a third blue car ran into the rear of my car.
The wonderful thing about these accidents is that I wasn’t hurt and I did get a brand new car out of the deal. A safe car, one that old ladies drive, but it doesn’t have a target painted on it.
“OneWord” probably is some company incorporated in one of the fifty States of the United States of America. I, however, wonder what this company is about? I also wonder what the point of this is?
The Jeep was on its side, its windshield was heavily cracked, a spiderweb of broken glass errupted in front of the steering wheel, there was a dark spot of blood in the center of it. A pickup truck, sat nearby, its front end crumpled. There were police cars all around and two ambulaces. One of the victims was being loaded into one, he was strapped to a stretcher, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth.
We drove past slowly. Judy gasped, she’d never seen such a bad wreck before.
“Did he die, do you think?” she asked
“Who? that guy?” Ferny said. “He’s alive.”
“The guy who drove the Jeep,” Judy said. “Look at all that blood, oh my God.” She turned away.
Ferny rolled down his window and leaned out of it. “Hey, did anybody die?” he called.
“None of your business,” said one of the cops.
“Guess we’ll have to wait for the news to come on,” Ferny said.
The traffic picked up as we left the scene. The red and blue headlights flashed in my rear view mirrors for a few seconds more before dying out. We drove on silently. As we approached the turnpike, Judy began to weep. Ferny put his arm around her and tried to calm her.
“It’s all right,” he said. “They probably didn’t die. They’ll just be in the hospital for a while.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Judy. “I’ve neer seen anybody die before.”
I came to a point where ahead of me three roads lay. One which had almost twenty years of memory contained in it, the road that took me to school everyday. It represents much of what I am today, my friends, my education, how I think, many childhood memories… On this stretch of road that didn’t stop at my school, but I had never needed to go beyond. The other was the one that lead me to my father’s shop, another place that had a special spot for itself in my life, and now looking back has more meaning that I did before, like a small shrine. Both these roads, Eventually turn around to lead me back to one place where it starts, my home, where i belong. A walk along these roads, no matter how tired I may be, how farther down the road I am, it never seems long, never an effort, and in the end, they take me where I belong…
The third is tricky, because it goes in the opposite direction, from everything I’ve known, and as I am beginning to explore, I see, its hold my future, my life’s love, my life ahead, and it shall never close, allowing me to come back to where I want to be.
it is what 2 things meet at a point toghether i know its simple but whet is harder is that when they meet they wont meet again at any point so when they meet they become parallel next so they wont meet again at anty point. an intersection is a place where two roads or paths cross each other. as simple as that
This is a crossroads. The point at which I put it all on the line and ask myself, “what is it you really want?” I know either way will take me to a destiny of my choosing, yet the choice seems to matter. Could it be I make to much of things?
She stopped at the intersection in a pink keffiyeh and heart shaped sunglass, snapping retro polaroids. Head full of nothing, mouth with a freshly lit vogue, she muttered something inane out of the other side of it, something about indie rock, sucking cock and flinging glass bottles or rocks. Something about socialism too, I think.
i came before to this crossroad- away in my dreams was it – the heather was in bloom on the side rising up on the lelt while the dark waters of the loch lay still and sinister down to the right – a choice was before me – the road ahead held little and a bird was singing on the fence post
Intersection. A word i can only spare my morning thought process to figure and define, a word long lost in my A.M vocabulary. What a shame, may i never know my own mind with it.
when i was at the small intersection in front of my house one tiger came and ripped my head off, but I could know in the last moment that it was just a nightmare, so I thought I can change it the way I want
We approached the junction at about 60 miles an hour, the traffic lights were changing but it was far too late to slow down. We ploughed through the traffic that was just setting off, clipping the wheels on the curb. This must be what it feels like to be free, but I think I’d rather not have that feeling.
Intersection means meeting. Meeting can be of paths roads,rivers ideas or anything. whenevr there is intersection theres is uprising or new thoughts emerge
Alec rhythmically beat his thumbs on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change at the intersection. Magnus would not be happy if he was late again.
I pull up at an intersection. Someone pulls beside me. I can tell there are two people in the car, and wonder what kind of music they’re listening to. Then I wonder about what music I am listening to. Sometimes, I can really get into classical.
Не го сакам зборот пресек, се повтори, ме пресече. Сакам нов збор, да истражам во друг дел од мозокот. Но, среќата не бира и е педерска, не знае да биде фер затоа што е среќа, математика, шанса. Или пак љубовта е среќа, но веќе ги курвам значењата на зборовите. Ова е – крај.
I was stopped at the intersection, looking at my cell phone. It hadn’t rung. No text messages. I looked up, the light was red. But something didn’t register. I stepped on the gas and noticed too late that I hadn’t focused. The motorcycle hit me from the right. As
The stop sign glared in the sunlight as we stopped. The playground wasn’t far away, and we’ll be swinging together on the swingset soon. I’ll be watching his hand, wanting it to drift toward mine even though it never will. So I just watch the glaring stop sign.
I came across an intersection in town the other day. A blind man was waiting patiently to cross. His seeing-eye dog sitting next to him, faithful, loyal and worthy. I was slightly jealous that there was so much trust in that relationship between a dog and a human. Especially when I can’t find that trust with another human.
She stood, looking in the mirror and brushing her hair. Talk about being at an intersection! If she went one way int he meeting this morning, the project would go in a certain direction. If she went another way, the project would go in an entirely different direction.
She came with the morning light, trailing it behind her with a careless gesture, as though this treasure of the seas was of no consequence. A the intersection, she paused briefly, as though puzzeled by its complexity, then she high stepped forward, tossing her magnificent mane free of the last drops of sea sale.
I’m standing at the intersection, waiting for the lights to change; how much time of our lives to we spend waiting. Watching the speeding cars I wonder how much time we spend rushing through our lives, and if we ever stop to think where it is we’re going. The light turns green. I step off the curb and back into the rush of life.
the intersection between the two time zones had somehow come open, and strange creatures were coming through in their hundreds. they didn’t look at all menacing.
UNA INTERSECCION ES CUANDO DOS PERSONAS SE CRUZAN Y SE PONEN A MERCED DEL DESTINO, SIMPLEMENTE PARA PLATICAR Y PARA PODER INTERACTUAR, NO ES ESO LO QUE TODOS BUSCAMOS? A PESAR DE ESO NO TODOS NOS ATREVEMOS A BUSCAR ESAS INTERSECCIONES. eEsa interseccion que nos cambiara la vida de un momento a otro y terminapor dar un vuelvo violento, no y eso no siempre es malo
The light is red. My heart is pounding.
“Get up off the floor!” she yells, “you can’t lie there!”
It didn’t listen. Why won’t it listen?
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel and light my foot slightly off the break.
“Not going to make it go any faster,” she says as she pulls on it’s collar.
Where Clark and Diversey and Halsted meet is a special intersection, a five road junction. Decisions that you make in the vicinity change everything. Its where Boys Town meets the rest of the world, its where the money and the not so much money meet. The Halsted Street bus, number eight, of course sails straight through here, its job is to glide seamlessly through have and have not, luxury and anxiety, knowledge and despair driving from one extremity of the city to another and treating all places one hundred per cent the same; its a very spiritual, enlightened sort of bus, and it has to pass through this intersection because its on some sort of leyline that vibrates to that passe-partout spirit, I cans see a hundred days past when I was here, the light and the look in peoples eyes and feel the wind and know now what I didn’t then, that that day was a turning point. Can you meet me at the Starbucks just down the Parkway a little? You can see the balcony of my old studio and I like it in there, its full of ghosts; they fired me because I didn’t want to wash the base boards one day, but as it was my fourth job at the time it wasn’t too tragic and I really needed the rest
She paused at the intersection between the roads. She would never get used to these small towns. She could stand there for an hour and see three pick-up trucks pass her on the main roads. Back in Boston, you could hardly cross at the designated spots for fear of being run over.
She felt a hand grab hers, and she looked up at Ben, and her home sickness faded away just a little bit.
There it was – the meeting place. Be at the Grove intersection at one, he said. I looked at all the roads that met at that point, and wondered from where he would emerge. Would it be from the direction of HER house? Or would he approach from where we first met, the cafe with the wooden ostrich?
In my life, there lies an intersection of motivation and the fear of failure. I’ve experienced failure many times before, like most. But, one time brought me to my knees. It’s what drove me at one point, solely. Never to feel that kind of pain again, even if I didn’t (and still don’t) feel like I was the only one to blame. Nevertheless, now I have more inspiration than the lingering fear. I’ve taken a leap of faith and fallen from an artificial space to a true sense of self, a path to walk in this brief life. The perfect place.
intersection is dividing a thing into two. two lines intersect at a point that point is called intersection point. Intersection of thoughts is very interesting.
Once again I find myself at the intersection, trying to decide whether I should write again on this word or just click on to another site. What will I do? What will I do?
If I never see another blue car, it will be too soon. It was a beautiful day, just right for a nice drive to the beach. I left home with all my goodies – towel, sunscreen, water, and a great new book I had just picked up at the bookstore.
As I left my street to turn onto the highway, a blue car ran the light at the intersection and plowed into my left side. No sooner had my head cleared but another blue car hit the right side of my car. Both the drivers began to run over to check on me when yet a third blue car ran into the rear of my car.
The wonderful thing about these accidents is that I wasn’t hurt and I did get a brand new car out of the deal. A safe car, one that old ladies drive, but it doesn’t have a target painted on it.
“OneWord” probably is some company incorporated in one of the fifty States of the United States of America. I, however, wonder what this company is about? I also wonder what the point of this is?
the intersection with a stoplight. street. driving, driver’s ed. learning to drive. stoplight. hahahah blahhhh i’m bad at this one.
The Jeep was on its side, its windshield was heavily cracked, a spiderweb of broken glass errupted in front of the steering wheel, there was a dark spot of blood in the center of it. A pickup truck, sat nearby, its front end crumpled. There were police cars all around and two ambulaces. One of the victims was being loaded into one, he was strapped to a stretcher, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth.
We drove past slowly. Judy gasped, she’d never seen such a bad wreck before.
“Did he die, do you think?” she asked
“Who? that guy?” Ferny said. “He’s alive.”
“The guy who drove the Jeep,” Judy said. “Look at all that blood, oh my God.” She turned away.
Ferny rolled down his window and leaned out of it. “Hey, did anybody die?” he called.
“None of your business,” said one of the cops.
“Guess we’ll have to wait for the news to come on,” Ferny said.
The traffic picked up as we left the scene. The red and blue headlights flashed in my rear view mirrors for a few seconds more before dying out. We drove on silently. As we approached the turnpike, Judy began to weep. Ferny put his arm around her and tried to calm her.
“It’s all right,” he said. “They probably didn’t die. They’ll just be in the hospital for a while.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Judy. “I’ve neer seen anybody die before.”
I came to a point where ahead of me three roads lay. One which had almost twenty years of memory contained in it, the road that took me to school everyday. It represents much of what I am today, my friends, my education, how I think, many childhood memories… On this stretch of road that didn’t stop at my school, but I had never needed to go beyond. The other was the one that lead me to my father’s shop, another place that had a special spot for itself in my life, and now looking back has more meaning that I did before, like a small shrine. Both these roads, Eventually turn around to lead me back to one place where it starts, my home, where i belong. A walk along these roads, no matter how tired I may be, how farther down the road I am, it never seems long, never an effort, and in the end, they take me where I belong…
The third is tricky, because it goes in the opposite direction, from everything I’ve known, and as I am beginning to explore, I see, its hold my future, my life’s love, my life ahead, and it shall never close, allowing me to come back to where I want to be.
intersection is the point of junction of two points where they cut or meet each other. its used in the graphic designing and other kind of graphs.
it is what 2 things meet at a point toghether i know its simple but whet is harder is that when they meet they wont meet again at any point so when they meet they become parallel next so they wont meet again at anty point. an intersection is a place where two roads or paths cross each other. as simple as that
The cars collided at the intersection; it was ahhhhhhhhhhhhh time is up so soon!!!!
This is a crossroads. The point at which I put it all on the line and ask myself, “what is it you really want?” I know either way will take me to a destiny of my choosing, yet the choice seems to matter. Could it be I make to much of things?
She stopped at the intersection in a pink keffiyeh and heart shaped sunglass, snapping retro polaroids. Head full of nothing, mouth with a freshly lit vogue, she muttered something inane out of the other side of it, something about indie rock, sucking cock and flinging glass bottles or rocks. Something about socialism too, I think.
i came before to this crossroad- away in my dreams was it – the heather was in bloom on the side rising up on the lelt while the dark waters of the loch lay still and sinister down to the right – a choice was before me – the road ahead held little and a bird was singing on the fence post
I hated this part of my life. It was… it was like an intersection.
The intersection of my new life.
I certainly didn’t like my new life.
Intersection. A word i can only spare my morning thought process to figure and define, a word long lost in my A.M vocabulary. What a shame, may i never know my own mind with it.
We had to do the intersection as put of school project; it just sounded gross, but was one of those life changing moments. Seing the creature
when i was at the small intersection in front of my house one tiger came and ripped my head off, but I could know in the last moment that it was just a nightmare, so I thought I can change it the way I want
We approached the junction at about 60 miles an hour, the traffic lights were changing but it was far too late to slow down. We ploughed through the traffic that was just setting off, clipping the wheels on the curb. This must be what it feels like to be free, but I think I’d rather not have that feeling.
Between you and I, a juncture of ill will, an unkempt left over gravelly place of collision.
Intersection means meeting. Meeting can be of paths roads,rivers ideas or anything. whenevr there is intersection theres is uprising or new thoughts emerge
Alec rhythmically beat his thumbs on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change at the intersection. Magnus would not be happy if he was late again.
I pull up at an intersection. Someone pulls beside me. I can tell there are two people in the car, and wonder what kind of music they’re listening to. Then I wonder about what music I am listening to. Sometimes, I can really get into classical.
Не го сакам зборот пресек, се повтори, ме пресече. Сакам нов збор, да истражам во друг дел од мозокот. Но, среќата не бира и е педерска, не знае да биде фер затоа што е среќа, математика, шанса. Или пак љубовта е среќа, но веќе ги курвам значењата на зборовите. Ова е – крај.
I was stopped at the intersection, looking at my cell phone. It hadn’t rung. No text messages. I looked up, the light was red. But something didn’t register. I stepped on the gas and noticed too late that I hadn’t focused. The motorcycle hit me from the right. As
The stop sign glared in the sunlight as we stopped. The playground wasn’t far away, and we’ll be swinging together on the swingset soon. I’ll be watching his hand, wanting it to drift toward mine even though it never will. So I just watch the glaring stop sign.
I came across an intersection in town the other day. A blind man was waiting patiently to cross. His seeing-eye dog sitting next to him, faithful, loyal and worthy. I was slightly jealous that there was so much trust in that relationship between a dog and a human. Especially when I can’t find that trust with another human.
She stood, looking in the mirror and brushing her hair. Talk about being at an intersection! If she went one way int he meeting this morning, the project would go in a certain direction. If she went another way, the project would go in an entirely different direction.
She came with the morning light, trailing it behind her with a careless gesture, as though this treasure of the seas was of no consequence. A the intersection, she paused briefly, as though puzzeled by its complexity, then she high stepped forward, tossing her magnificent mane free of the last drops of sea sale.
I’m standing at the intersection, waiting for the lights to change; how much time of our lives to we spend waiting. Watching the speeding cars I wonder how much time we spend rushing through our lives, and if we ever stop to think where it is we’re going. The light turns green. I step off the curb and back into the rush of life.
the intersection which came to both the roads was where the fatal accident happened.
the intersection between the two time zones had somehow come open, and strange creatures were coming through in their hundreds. they didn’t look at all menacing.
UNA INTERSECCION ES CUANDO DOS PERSONAS SE CRUZAN Y SE PONEN A MERCED DEL DESTINO, SIMPLEMENTE PARA PLATICAR Y PARA PODER INTERACTUAR, NO ES ESO LO QUE TODOS BUSCAMOS? A PESAR DE ESO NO TODOS NOS ATREVEMOS A BUSCAR ESAS INTERSECCIONES. eEsa interseccion que nos cambiara la vida de un momento a otro y terminapor dar un vuelvo violento, no y eso no siempre es malo
two roads a new decision collision stop light two lines traffic CRASH xy axis crossing lines
The light is red. My heart is pounding.
“Get up off the floor!” she yells, “you can’t lie there!”
It didn’t listen. Why won’t it listen?
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel and light my foot slightly off the break.
“Not going to make it go any faster,” she says as she pulls on it’s collar.
Where Clark and Diversey and Halsted meet is a special intersection, a five road junction. Decisions that you make in the vicinity change everything. Its where Boys Town meets the rest of the world, its where the money and the not so much money meet. The Halsted Street bus, number eight, of course sails straight through here, its job is to glide seamlessly through have and have not, luxury and anxiety, knowledge and despair driving from one extremity of the city to another and treating all places one hundred per cent the same; its a very spiritual, enlightened sort of bus, and it has to pass through this intersection because its on some sort of leyline that vibrates to that passe-partout spirit, I cans see a hundred days past when I was here, the light and the look in peoples eyes and feel the wind and know now what I didn’t then, that that day was a turning point. Can you meet me at the Starbucks just down the Parkway a little? You can see the balcony of my old studio and I like it in there, its full of ghosts; they fired me because I didn’t want to wash the base boards one day, but as it was my fourth job at the time it wasn’t too tragic and I really needed the rest
She paused at the intersection between the roads. She would never get used to these small towns. She could stand there for an hour and see three pick-up trucks pass her on the main roads. Back in Boston, you could hardly cross at the designated spots for fear of being run over.
She felt a hand grab hers, and she looked up at Ben, and her home sickness faded away just a little bit.
Can’t help but think of the horrible decisions I’ve made.
Pretty lame excuse for such little progress.
The point where my lovely cup of tea meets my solar plexus and calms my fears, both rational and irrational.
There it was – the meeting place. Be at the Grove intersection at one, he said. I looked at all the roads that met at that point, and wondered from where he would emerge. Would it be from the direction of HER house? Or would he approach from where we first met, the cafe with the wooden ostrich?
In my life, there lies an intersection of motivation and the fear of failure. I’ve experienced failure many times before, like most. But, one time brought me to my knees. It’s what drove me at one point, solely. Never to feel that kind of pain again, even if I didn’t (and still don’t) feel like I was the only one to blame. Nevertheless, now I have more inspiration than the lingering fear. I’ve taken a leap of faith and fallen from an artificial space to a true sense of self, a path to walk in this brief life. The perfect place.
I continue. I’ll continue.
intersection is dividing a thing into two. two lines intersect at a point that point is called intersection point. Intersection of thoughts is very interesting.