2. Although I don't like vegetables, I eat them everyday.
3. Even though she's intelligent, she gets poor marks.
4. It's hard to hike up that big hill however you'll love the view up there.
Hope this helps!
The answer must be connotation because he is dead in real life but the story adds meaning to his death. Thus making him sound alive. So its connotation.
The study of rhythm in music is similar to the study of rhythm in poetry. Songs are poems set to music. Metre is a term covering both the underlying rhythm and the structure on top of the rhythm. The repeated rhythmic unit from which a poem is is constructed is called a Foot. It is a pattern of long and short syllables. These syllables correspond to strong and weak beats in a bar of music. There is one difference - it matters where a rhythmic pattern begins in poetry but does not matter where the rhythmic pattern begins in music.
Answer:
Today I went out for a stroll in the gorgeous scenery. It was freezing cold when I stepped out. The pathway was icy and slippery. I tried to reach out for the rusty light post, and despite my efforts, I managed to fall right in slush puddle. My bottom was soaked from the muddy slush. I got up and realized my phone was on my bottom pocket. I took it out and the mobile wouldn't even turn on. It's sleek black screen refused to show anything but my saddedned face. I slid the phone back into my soggy pocket, and headed back home.
I didn't get far before I couldn't feel my fingers. Afraid to catch a cold or anything else, I headed to the nearest bus station. I reached the old rusty structure. I tried to sit down, but the seats were filled with garbage and old gum. I decided to stand instead.
Finally the bus approached. I rushed into the warm environment. I felt my entire body melt into the seat. As I was heating up, I looked over to see the entire bus passengers were staring at me. Their beady eyes, drew lasers into me. My face was reddened with embarrassment. I was dead silent all the way home.
When I reached my bus stop, I thanked the bus driver and proceeded out into the brutally chiling world. But as soon as I stepped out, I slipped and found myself in another slush puddle. What made it worse was that the bus was still there. All the passengers laughed at my misfortune.
Being the sensitive person I am. I began crying in the slush puddle.
I didn't leave the spot till my eyes were bloodshot and puffy. I then picked up my sorry soaked self and trudged on home.
I regret ever leaving my room.
Based on a true story of my life lol
He was gas at her was as at this Home tv is are Webb Hannibal oven become steel gravy dough Song Duck scenario any angry angry every scrum avenues attack
