as i view the body i cant believe it. my own mother is in a puddle of blood. i then turn to see a man. a man bathed in shadows. i freeze in dismay and go to run…to say something. but.. but i can’t. its like the natural forces of life put me in the sleeper hold. as he came closer i realized who it was. it was the kid i pushed in the hallway today. i…i couldn’t believe it. in an instant i was floating above my dead body thinking…where am i going to go heaven or hell. as i think i get pulled downwards.
Through the chimney I look, my neck stretched and back bent as I contort myself to see a field of stars sparkling in the daylight sky. Out there, through my chimney view and beyond my grasp, things glisten with a certainty I can barely begin to absorb.
we can either view life through our own eyes or someone else’s eyes. imagine. life through another person’s life. seeing their struggles. seeing their accomplishments.
the air is cold and mucky. like the clouds have abandoned the sky and visited ground level. i view in amazement and breath my last breath and lay for eternity.
we all have eyes,
but each eye views the world different,
cuz to you it might seem like
the glass is half empty
to me,
i percieve life nd,
the glass simlar,
cuz its, bak bak wat the glass lack,
they can only be judged by whats in em,
wit that fact,
combine dat wit situation, consiquence upon reaction.
like how one man can take some bread nd a few fish nd feed whoever made it first to the basket, nd another can take the same supplies nd feed over 2 thousand,
but did it happen?, im not in the right to state my opinion
but that it self is a story thru king james but he wasnt a witness,
someone told him it! lol
simply put tho, view is jus present tense of vision.
its all how u look at it
are you near sighted or can u witness thru distance
Can you see the auroras soaring over the sky like daydreams caught in bliss? They are whispers caught in a cold fog breath and drowned in color. Such is this view.
As I look out my window at the mesmorizing view, I’m reminded of all those who don’t have the luxuries that I have. They live their life in constant fear on not getting their needs met. Its kind of a sweet and sour thing, how one can realize how blessed they really are and yet feel so sorry for those who aren’t as fortunate.
The air was cold and the mountains loomed forward, casting stark, sinister shadows over his face. The feilds surrounding us were strangly silent, the steady calm of the autumn night dampening all the noise.
“Sophie.” His face was even paler in the moonlight, his freckled looked like specks of sand. I had the urge to brush them away.
“Sophie.” Hid eyes were luminous in the night, nervous. he certainly had never been this close to a girl. I didn’t care. i sure hadn’t been this close to a boy.
“Sophie.” he said it more urgently this time, but it wasn’t a command, it wasnt and exclamation
“Yeah?” I asked quickly, trying to hide the lengthy silence that hug between us. a light flickered in the forrest, a curtain of starlings rising from the trees.
“They are going to find us, you know.”
“I know.” A gunshot rang out. His hand reached up, touched my face, touched my lips. i closed my eyes, opened them after the next gunshot.
There was nothing to do but wait.
I view the circumstances of my life somewhat cheerfully. I have had my brick walls that I have crashed into, and the cliffs I have fallen off of, but mostly I have really had lots of fun, a lot of adventures, and been able to explore many possibilities. I would not change a thing!
it wasn’t so much a view with the eyes involved, not so much a view the traveled through Cassie’s pale blue retina, sparked her optic nerve and triggered her brain, it was a view of sound. A non-linear landscape of fantasia-like symphonies.
The view from the window is rear. The view from the mountain is down. The view from the nostril is hairy. The view from the mattress is fuzzy and warm. The view from the eraser is smudged.
The christmas lights outside the windows dance, leaving spirals of disjointed color in the smog. The sky hadn’t been clear for days, and the quick flickering of the new-fangled, too-bright bulbs brought Chrissy out of her stupor. Her tea was already cold.
It isn’t enough to feel the ocean breeze upon my skin or to smell the salty breathe of the waves breaking upon each other. I want to see you in the morning when I wake up from bed and caress your cheek with the slightest touch.
I viewed the body. I saw everything….your body was so cold….You’ve left all of us. I saw your body burn. I can’t take it. Your gone, I was tooken away, and him….he never speaks to me anymore. I’m depending on no one anymore. Goodbye, I should’ve said.
The beach was beautiful. The palm trees were waving in the wind, and the sea splashed against the rocks. It was a gorgeous view, and the perfect place for a honeymoon.
The view today was just beatiful: Seeing all those young people in the auditorium, with the world just opening in front of them, with their dreams just begining, with the clock ticking for them to be young, for society ticking for them to get a job, for the family ticking for them to get married, for us tikcing them to be themselves.
I know someone who has an amazing view. When I visit, it takes my breath away every morning. The thought of waking to beauty like that every single day… it’s very appealing. If only it weren’t so darned hot where she lives.
The __________ from the darkened room was astonishing. Mountain valleys rolled out in front of him, with shimmering streams below a layer of fog. The peaks poked up through the clouds, and held the bright pure sunlight at their summits. The green grass shined and swayed in a blowing wind. Of all this he was sure, for he could see it refracting to him, around the edges of the door.
On top I see, through the woods I see. What is this? The cloads are dark. Mist and shadow. I see the river, a glorious view. Stop, breath, and wait. The view will change.
I glanced at the view behind my frantic back. Guns shooting, knives jabbing, cannons booming. I raced up the village streets as fast as my legs would carry me, i couldn’t stop until i reached the castle. The mauling of the battle let out cries of war and pain as i scrambled hurriedly up the road, praying that i wouldn’t become a victim.
from the rooftop, everything looks different. the streets are cluttered with cars and people, but from up here they all look like ants. the moon is shrouded in smog and the sky is swimming through the light from the stars. city lights blink up at me, little eyes made of colors and wishes. the veiw is impossible and wonderful and surreal, and i have always loved it’s picture more than anything. that is why i chose it for my last.
The view from the window is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
The window is perfect for viewing- floor to ceiling, right in the left aorta of the pumping heart of the city, filing with yellow neon blood cells and life and action and cancer, mutations, everything piled together in one working, beautiful machine.
The view from the bay window was the same as always, except somehow different. I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was the snow, or the fallen branches. Or possibly the lack of cars, and people. It’s late, nobody’s around. The streetlights turned everything orange, and I can’t tell you how, but something is different.
how’s the view from up there?
i wish i was with you. sitting watching the sunset and wishing
i want to travel forever and ever live with the monks
and the fish in the sea will be my family
i will never see any of this ever again
how’s the view from down there?
wait, where?
It was a beautiful view that night the mist speared
In my eyes like giant waves trying to eat you .I went to my dad he didn’t speak just watched what was happening in the background
one word is not one word dumbass. im bored. im hungry . and i have to go pee. lmfao . sooo. yeah mhmm. wateve buh byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee lovveee youuu. .~sara~ you suck!
everyone has a different view on life. a totally different perspective. each view and each experience defines who you are, and in turn, your view on the things that you experience in day to day life. I like my view, but i often wonder what it would be like to have a different view.
A person’s view should be his own and no one else’s
of course you may share your ideas and views unto others.
but once you try and force an idea into the entire world it will produce chaos
for 10 liters of water cannot fit in 1 cup
He had wanted a room with a view, and booked it when he read the advert. Looking out, onto the beach, waves lapping at the shore and no tide. The pebbles would remain undisturbed, to the point he knew he would be able to simply go out and lie down on those pebbles, and never get wet. The Sun would melt his hair into the sand, and sand flies would flit across his body, like tiny pinpricks, making his skin feel alive. Seaweed would drape the shoreline, he culd use it for a mattress, the air-filled sacs providing a burnt, crispy cushion against the raging hot sand.
All this, would be his.
Would be.
Wasn’t.
His room was facing onto a brick wall, the entrance of a rowdy nightclub, the smell of beer and vomit drifting up as painfully as the wretching feeling that no doubt led to its being on the pavement in the first place. Screams of drunken joy and dumped tears that would continue on into the hours of dawn once more breaking the horizon over the beach he would not be able to see from here. The cars that would screech up outside, joy riders and boy racers, tearing down the narrow one-way lanes side by side, clipping walls and terrifying locals fresh out of the late-closing restaurant at the end of the street.
Looking out of the window, wearing a grimace, he dropped his bag he had held on to since entering the room. He had already paid for it, and was exhausted from the journey. He could just lay down, and probably, hopefully, it wouldn’t be too noisy. The bed looked uncomfortable. When he dropped his bag, it had scared something which disappeared hastily under the bed. Something that made a noise as it moved. This was, apparently, the last room in the hotel. And this was the only hotel in the town. Everything else was, he knew, fully booked. And he had paid for it already.
He stared a little longer at the wall outside of the window. The street lights were coming on, and he could hear the thump thump thump of the nightclub starting up.
He reached down for his bag again, and held it for a moment, then turned and walked back out of the open door of the room, and out of his ‘seafront hotel’. Twenty minutes’ walking later, he finally reached the seafront. In the fading rays of sunset that remained, leaving behind a multicoloured jewelled sky of rainbow colours, he walked across the still warm sand to the sea itself. It lapped ever-so-gently at the same pebbles that seemed not to have moved in days. To his left, he could see a large rack of crusty, dried seaweed, left from the last storm there had been, now charred from the sun, but still with its inflated airsacs. Drawing it towards him, he fashioned out of it a mattress, and with his duffel bag as a pillow, lay down on the seaweed, sand flies popping at his bare legs, and the gentle sound of small waves encouraging him softly to exhausted, satisfied sleep.
from my point of viewk, it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas. we will be giving a view to christmas pictures from the past. I like to look through the view finder of my camera. A person’s point of view on life determines how they live, whether happy or sad. Your view of my situation does not matter to me in the least. Can you see the view from the window? It’s spectacular. The rear view mirror objects are larger than they appear.
look at the view! who would of thought that one day you would be sitting in the office of your dreams with that incredible view of the city you’ve lived in your entire life. from way up here all my problems seem so minuscule.
as i view the body i cant believe it. my own mother is in a puddle of blood. i then turn to see a man. a man bathed in shadows. i freeze in dismay and go to run…to say something. but.. but i can’t. its like the natural forces of life put me in the sleeper hold. as he came closer i realized who it was. it was the kid i pushed in the hallway today. i…i couldn’t believe it. in an instant i was floating above my dead body thinking…where am i going to go heaven or hell. as i think i get pulled downwards.
Through the chimney I look, my neck stretched and back bent as I contort myself to see a field of stars sparkling in the daylight sky. Out there, through my chimney view and beyond my grasp, things glisten with a certainty I can barely begin to absorb.
we can either view life through our own eyes or someone else’s eyes. imagine. life through another person’s life. seeing their struggles. seeing their accomplishments.
the air is cold and mucky. like the clouds have abandoned the sky and visited ground level. i view in amazement and breath my last breath and lay for eternity.
we all have eyes,
but each eye views the world different,
cuz to you it might seem like
the glass is half empty
to me,
i percieve life nd,
the glass simlar,
cuz its, bak bak wat the glass lack,
they can only be judged by whats in em,
wit that fact,
combine dat wit situation, consiquence upon reaction.
like how one man can take some bread nd a few fish nd feed whoever made it first to the basket, nd another can take the same supplies nd feed over 2 thousand,
but did it happen?, im not in the right to state my opinion
but that it self is a story thru king james but he wasnt a witness,
someone told him it! lol
simply put tho, view is jus present tense of vision.
its all how u look at it
are you near sighted or can u witness thru distance
viewing videos on youtube about fights but them all being fake so i go and eat pie. the pie is over due. FML!
Can you see the auroras soaring over the sky like daydreams caught in bliss? They are whispers caught in a cold fog breath and drowned in color. Such is this view.
As I look out my window at the mesmorizing view, I’m reminded of all those who don’t have the luxuries that I have. They live their life in constant fear on not getting their needs met. Its kind of a sweet and sour thing, how one can realize how blessed they really are and yet feel so sorry for those who aren’t as fortunate.
The air was cold and the mountains loomed forward, casting stark, sinister shadows over his face. The feilds surrounding us were strangly silent, the steady calm of the autumn night dampening all the noise.
“Sophie.” His face was even paler in the moonlight, his freckled looked like specks of sand. I had the urge to brush them away.
“Sophie.” Hid eyes were luminous in the night, nervous. he certainly had never been this close to a girl. I didn’t care. i sure hadn’t been this close to a boy.
“Sophie.” he said it more urgently this time, but it wasn’t a command, it wasnt and exclamation
“Yeah?” I asked quickly, trying to hide the lengthy silence that hug between us. a light flickered in the forrest, a curtain of starlings rising from the trees.
“They are going to find us, you know.”
“I know.” A gunshot rang out. His hand reached up, touched my face, touched my lips. i closed my eyes, opened them after the next gunshot.
There was nothing to do but wait.
I view the circumstances of my life somewhat cheerfully. I have had my brick walls that I have crashed into, and the cliffs I have fallen off of, but mostly I have really had lots of fun, a lot of adventures, and been able to explore many possibilities. I would not change a thing!
it wasn’t so much a view with the eyes involved, not so much a view the traveled through Cassie’s pale blue retina, sparked her optic nerve and triggered her brain, it was a view of sound. A non-linear landscape of fantasia-like symphonies.
View
The view from the window is rear. The view from the mountain is down. The view from the nostril is hairy. The view from the mattress is fuzzy and warm. The view from the eraser is smudged.
The christmas lights outside the windows dance, leaving spirals of disjointed color in the smog. The sky hadn’t been clear for days, and the quick flickering of the new-fangled, too-bright bulbs brought Chrissy out of her stupor. Her tea was already cold.
It isn’t enough to feel the ocean breeze upon my skin or to smell the salty breathe of the waves breaking upon each other. I want to see you in the morning when I wake up from bed and caress your cheek with the slightest touch.
I viewed the body. I saw everything….your body was so cold….You’ve left all of us. I saw your body burn. I can’t take it. Your gone, I was tooken away, and him….he never speaks to me anymore. I’m depending on no one anymore. Goodbye, I should’ve said.
The beach was beautiful. The palm trees were waving in the wind, and the sea splashed against the rocks. It was a gorgeous view, and the perfect place for a honeymoon.
The view today was just beatiful: Seeing all those young people in the auditorium, with the world just opening in front of them, with their dreams just begining, with the clock ticking for them to be young, for society ticking for them to get a job, for the family ticking for them to get married, for us tikcing them to be themselves.
View
It would be nice to have one ;)
I know someone who has an amazing view. When I visit, it takes my breath away every morning. The thought of waking to beauty like that every single day… it’s very appealing. If only it weren’t so darned hot where she lives.
The __________ from the darkened room was astonishing. Mountain valleys rolled out in front of him, with shimmering streams below a layer of fog. The peaks poked up through the clouds, and held the bright pure sunlight at their summits. The green grass shined and swayed in a blowing wind. Of all this he was sure, for he could see it refracting to him, around the edges of the door.
sight of a balcony or seeping coffee on the rooftop of the champs elysees. that’s what i call a view.
I view myself in different lights. Dim, darkness, and bright. Dimness is fonder, though sunlight by the ocean brings out the most beautiful smile.
my view….my view of the mountains is great,the snow and the birds,with their sweet cheeping.
it just reminds me of God’s love and mercy.
On top I see, through the woods I see. What is this? The cloads are dark. Mist and shadow. I see the river, a glorious view. Stop, breath, and wait. The view will change.
I glanced at the view behind my frantic back. Guns shooting, knives jabbing, cannons booming. I raced up the village streets as fast as my legs would carry me, i couldn’t stop until i reached the castle. The mauling of the battle let out cries of war and pain as i scrambled hurriedly up the road, praying that i wouldn’t become a victim.
from the rooftop, everything looks different. the streets are cluttered with cars and people, but from up here they all look like ants. the moon is shrouded in smog and the sky is swimming through the light from the stars. city lights blink up at me, little eyes made of colors and wishes. the veiw is impossible and wonderful and surreal, and i have always loved it’s picture more than anything. that is why i chose it for my last.
From my vantage point I see that you’re not interested on my point of view. You’re fired.
The view is
The view was
The view will always be.
Never is
Never was
Never will
The view is
The view was
The view will always be.
The view from the window is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
The window is perfect for viewing- floor to ceiling, right in the left aorta of the pumping heart of the city, filing with yellow neon blood cells and life and action and cancer, mutations, everything piled together in one working, beautiful machine.
The view from the bay window was the same as always, except somehow different. I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was the snow, or the fallen branches. Or possibly the lack of cars, and people. It’s late, nobody’s around. The streetlights turned everything orange, and I can’t tell you how, but something is different.
how’s the view from up there?
i wish i was with you. sitting watching the sunset and wishing
i want to travel forever and ever live with the monks
and the fish in the sea will be my family
i will never see any of this ever again
how’s the view from down there?
wait, where?
It was a beautiful view that night the mist speared
In my eyes like giant waves trying to eat you .I went to my dad he didn’t speak just watched what was happening in the background
one word is not one word dumbass. im bored. im hungry . and i have to go pee. lmfao . sooo. yeah mhmm. wateve buh byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee lovveee youuu. .~sara~ you suck!
It was a beautiful view that night the speared
In my eyes like giant waves trying to eat you
Up.
everyone has a different view on life. a totally different perspective. each view and each experience defines who you are, and in turn, your view on the things that you experience in day to day life. I like my view, but i often wonder what it would be like to have a different view.
A person’s view should be his own and no one else’s
of course you may share your ideas and views unto others.
but once you try and force an idea into the entire world it will produce chaos
for 10 liters of water cannot fit in 1 cup
He had wanted a room with a view, and booked it when he read the advert. Looking out, onto the beach, waves lapping at the shore and no tide. The pebbles would remain undisturbed, to the point he knew he would be able to simply go out and lie down on those pebbles, and never get wet. The Sun would melt his hair into the sand, and sand flies would flit across his body, like tiny pinpricks, making his skin feel alive. Seaweed would drape the shoreline, he culd use it for a mattress, the air-filled sacs providing a burnt, crispy cushion against the raging hot sand.
All this, would be his.
Would be.
Wasn’t.
His room was facing onto a brick wall, the entrance of a rowdy nightclub, the smell of beer and vomit drifting up as painfully as the wretching feeling that no doubt led to its being on the pavement in the first place. Screams of drunken joy and dumped tears that would continue on into the hours of dawn once more breaking the horizon over the beach he would not be able to see from here. The cars that would screech up outside, joy riders and boy racers, tearing down the narrow one-way lanes side by side, clipping walls and terrifying locals fresh out of the late-closing restaurant at the end of the street.
Looking out of the window, wearing a grimace, he dropped his bag he had held on to since entering the room. He had already paid for it, and was exhausted from the journey. He could just lay down, and probably, hopefully, it wouldn’t be too noisy. The bed looked uncomfortable. When he dropped his bag, it had scared something which disappeared hastily under the bed. Something that made a noise as it moved. This was, apparently, the last room in the hotel. And this was the only hotel in the town. Everything else was, he knew, fully booked. And he had paid for it already.
He stared a little longer at the wall outside of the window. The street lights were coming on, and he could hear the thump thump thump of the nightclub starting up.
He reached down for his bag again, and held it for a moment, then turned and walked back out of the open door of the room, and out of his ‘seafront hotel’. Twenty minutes’ walking later, he finally reached the seafront. In the fading rays of sunset that remained, leaving behind a multicoloured jewelled sky of rainbow colours, he walked across the still warm sand to the sea itself. It lapped ever-so-gently at the same pebbles that seemed not to have moved in days. To his left, he could see a large rack of crusty, dried seaweed, left from the last storm there had been, now charred from the sun, but still with its inflated airsacs. Drawing it towards him, he fashioned out of it a mattress, and with his duffel bag as a pillow, lay down on the seaweed, sand flies popping at his bare legs, and the gentle sound of small waves encouraging him softly to exhausted, satisfied sleep.
i wonder how you think of me, i wonder where we’re at. i wonder where we’re going as we come to a stop.
from my point of viewk, it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas. we will be giving a view to christmas pictures from the past. I like to look through the view finder of my camera. A person’s point of view on life determines how they live, whether happy or sad. Your view of my situation does not matter to me in the least. Can you see the view from the window? It’s spectacular. The rear view mirror objects are larger than they appear.
if you can see, you can live. if you can hear, you can live. that is why anyone who can’t should be pitied, but still treated like a human.
look at the view! who would of thought that one day you would be sitting in the office of your dreams with that incredible view of the city you’ve lived in your entire life. from way up here all my problems seem so minuscule.