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slega [8]
3 years ago
9

. What details do you notice show what Soueif is experiencing and feeling? Think of the chronological movements the author and n

ieces make (first, next, then). 2. What is the author feeling- what is her attitude? (Is she excited? Does she want to be a part of the revolution? Is she angry? Is she afraid? Does she want to leave?) Cite evidence
English
1 answer:
andrew-mc [135]3 years ago
3 0

Hello. You did not enter the text to which this question refers, which makes it impossible for it to be answered accurately. In the meantime I will try to help you in the best possible way.

The details that show what a character is experiencing and feeling are the adjectives that describe how the character is experiencing a given situation. These adjectives have the function of describing things to the reader and allowing him to understand how the character feels about things. It is these adjectives, too, that reinforce the tone and mood of the work, making the reader realize what sensations and attitudes the author wants to convey to the reader. In that case, to answer these questions, you must evaluate the adjectives presented in the text.

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mezya [45]

Answer:

As i chase the gazelle around the safari, it feels like its getting father and father away. as i run as fast as my legs can, I slowly catch up to the gazelle. I spend about 5 minutes praying to catch it. Im exhausted of all this running. As soon as my tired legs almost give out, I jump and catch it.

Explanation:

6 0
3 years ago
Which place would be the best example of a gothic setting
mestny [16]

Answer: an abandoned mental hospital

3 0
2 years ago
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50 points.Please help short story.QUICK WRITE INSTRUCTIONS :
iren2701 [21]

Her shadow loomed large on the wall, a hunched figure furiously typing. She was going to make her deadline even if her fingers bled--and her words were meaningless.

When she finally hit the enter key for the last time, she stood up and stretched. Her window showed only the inky black of midnight, but she would have time to edit her work one more time. Her lower back ached. Her feet were cold, bordering on numb. She slipped her feet into the fuzzy house shoes that had been kicked off hours ago. Stomach growling, she padded to the kitchen. She was met by mostly empty cupboards, she held a can of pinto beans and considered her possibilities. Then, a white and pink box glinted at her from a forgotten corner. She grabbed it with a smile and headed back to her desk.

Editing her own work was a form of self-flagellation, maybe the sugar would make the process go down smoother. She tore the top off of the box and spilled a half dozen pastel hearts into her hand. She lined them on the edge of her desk, in a linear rainbow while her printer spewed out her work like so much word vomit. She read the first line slowly, sounding out each word and wondering if she had made the right choice. She picked up the first pink heart, "call him." She popped the heart in her mouth and sucked. She let the sugar dissolve on her tongue, savoring the artificial strawberry flavor. She read the next line, making an alteration in a red pen as if she was in grade school. She picked up another pink heart, "please." She frowned but ate it in the same fashion as the first while reading the next few sentences. She picked up an orange creamsicle smelling heart and examined its message: "call Matt now."

She sat back and stared at the heart she had in her hand as if it had started bleeding and beating. Her hands shook as she set the orange heart back down in the parade on the edge of her desk. She set her red pen down on the stack of papers and counted ten deep breaths. She then looked at the hearts again, the first orange heart still read, "call Matt now." It was too much to hope that she had gone made after so many hours staring at a computer screen. She then went down the line and flipped over the hearts whose messages were face down:

"Matt,"

"Matt," and finally,

"You love him."

She raked her fingers through her hair and wondered. Her eyes traced the outline of a rectangle, the bare nail a reminder of what had been there. She walked toward the living room and found the cardboard box with "Matt" scrawled on one side in neat capital letters. Her hand reached for the picture frame that once hung on the wall next to her desk. The picture was of a man looking toward the horizon. She traced the outline of his face, a silhouette that she could draw with her eyes closed. A tear splashed on the glass and blurred his face.

She had been an entomologist in their relationship, pinning bits of him to cardstock but never getting too close. His smiles were butterflies that she saved but inevitably killed. Never letting herself be anything more than a scientist pulling the wings off of his beauty. She deserved to be alone. She had held a magnifying glass up to his faults, and she was sure he had grown to hate her. He had found someone else who could just be happy.

She looked at the rest of the box. A sweatshirt to a college she did not attend, a half dozen books she would never read, and pictures--pictures of Matt and of her with Matt. She sat down next to the box, her head resting on the back of the couch and continued to cry, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

She bit her lip until she tasted blood, stopped crying, and went back to her desk. She swept all of the pastel hearts into her hand, put them back in their box. She went back to slashing her words with red. An hour later, when she reached the end of her edits, she took a cold shower and a couple of shots of whiskey, drifting off into oblivion.

The alarm rang out from her phone, declaring a new day. She hit the snooze button once, twice. She got dressed and grabbed her laptop, walking purposefully to the coffee shop down the street where she would transfer her red pen edits to her word document. Sipping her cappuccino, all she could think about was the box of hearts in her waste bin next to her desk. She was not going to get anything done if she did not read all of the pastel messages. She went back to her apartment, pulled the box out of the trash. It was a pink and white waxed cardboard. There was nothing special about the packaging that she could tell. She spilled all of the pastel hearts on the floor. All of the candies were printed with the same messages: "call Matt now," "You love him," "Matt," and--the only word she had not seen yet-- "apologize."

6 0
3 years ago
The League, like Local 25, had expected a turnout of four or five thousand. They were bowled over by this army, utterly unprepar
EastWind [94]

Answer:

3. By providing an organizational structure for working women, the Women’s Trade Union League gained enough strength in numbers to have some power.

Explanation:

Joan Dash's "We Shall Not Be Moved," tells the dramatic story of how the women's union led a massive strike in the history of America. The story of women workers protesting and organizing strikes, women activists working towards ensuring better and equal opportunities to their female counterparts became one of the most important events in labor history.

In the given passage, the narrator recounts how women trade union <em>"organized strikes"</em> that were big, bringing a turnout of<em> "[an] army"</em> totally unexpected by the League. The strike was to show the men or the government as a whole that <em>"they were more than highbrow butters-in, just as the shirtwaist makers were more than irresponsible little girls."</em>

<u>This detail gives the conclusion that the organizational structure of the working women shows how the Women's Trade Union League managed to gain enough strength in numbers to assert their ability and power. </u>

Thus, the <u>correct answer is option 3</u>.

3 0
3 years ago
Read 2 more answers
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Igoryamba

Major narrative events are most often conveyed in chronological order, the order in which events unfold from first to last. Stories typically have a beginning, a middle, and an end, and these events are typically organized by time. Certain transitional words and phrasesLinks to an external site. aid in keeping the reader oriented in the sequencing of a story

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