the island is the symbol for utopia if we are talking about the same thing
Answer:
use the three rhetorical appeals to create a commercial
Explanation:
Explanation:
"When Mr. Pirzada Came to Dine" was written by the famous author Jhumpa Lahiri. In this book the author illustrates the experience shared by by little girl named Lilia who narrates the whole story.
The story takes was set in the autumn of the year 1971 when the two countries, India and Pakistan, were having conflicts with each others. The then called East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) was facing a civil war. West Pakistan invaded Dacca and tortured many people destroying many peoples life and killing them.
The story revolves deals with the cultural harmony of the two family, an Indian American and an East Pakistani living in Boston, in the backdrop of India–Pakistan war of 1971.
Answer:
The clouds stretched across the sky and they looked so fake yet somehow they were real. That day, I wasn't feeling anything in particular perhaps, I was having mood swings. The darkness tends to cause some sort of sadness within myself and today there was no sun. No sun, just clouds that stretched all the way to China and back. They made me feel like a little person but I remembered that, <em>it's a small world</em>. Nobody was thinking of me at that moment yet I wasn't thinking about anyone either. I felt common, not rare, just common. It seemed that nothing I could do would ever make a change in this world we call home. A song was replaying in my head the lyrics waning in crescendo, "Roses are red, violets are blue, my heart is dead, i'm such a fool." What more could I need to feel so lost within my thoughts than being alone with them. I looked up at the roof which extended far, almost too far reminding me of why I chose to live in a mansion. Well, actually I'm not sure why I chose to live in a mansion by myself. As I thought to myself, I only conjured sad thoughts. I felt like crying but only then I would be feeling bad for myself. <em>Rich people aren't supposed to be sad? Not like this aren't they? </em>I wanted to believe that, be like them, everybody else but it was something that I couldn't be. Rich was just a word but It can't describe how I felt. It just described who I was in an aspect of wealth. All alone, I sat in my chair rocking back and forth looking through the isolated and strangely large circular window. Clouds among clouds among more clouds stretching a seemingly endless route. I wish I was up there so I could feel the weightlessness that I so longlessly dreamed about. The weightlessness that brought no sadness, stress, or struggles. Down here I was merely a weight on the world, being of no use to anyone or anything, maybe even a diamond in the rough but if my uniqueness showed then maybe I would actually have potential. Still, that sounded very unlikely. I couldn't honor my myself but the weightlessness of the clouds could. Above those clouds only then would I see the sun once again. How happy would I be? Eternally happy. Only the clouds could make me happy because they looked so fake yet they were real<em> just like myself. </em>
