The World Scholar's Cup (also know as WSC) is an international team academic program with students participating from over 82 countries. The competition founder was DemiDec, started first in 2006. The World Scholar's Cup has attracted people from all around the world and promotes that it enables participants to "discover strengths and skills you never knew you had." It puts a strong focus on bringing students from different cultures together to discuss issues and ideas relevant to today.
This is a not-for-profit organization. Stating all the materials are free to all participants. And there 's a tournament all year long. The WSC is based on an International Educational Program
now running with its co-Founder and Alpaca-In-Chief: Daniel Berdichevsky
The Headquarters are located on Los Angeles, California.
A would be the best answer
Dove-twirl in the tall grass. End-of-summer glaze next door On the gloves and split ends of the conked magnolia tree. Work sounds: truck back-up-beep, wood tin-hammer, cicada, fire horn
<span>A. Poetry of Place</span>
My birthplace vanished, my citizenship earned, in league with stones of the earth, Ienter, without retreat or help from history, the days of no day, my earth of no earth, I re-enter the city in which I love you. And I never believed that the multitude of dreams and many words were vain.
D. Poetry of Family
On the days when the rest have failed you, let this much be yours— flies, dust, an unnameable odor, the two waiting baskets: one for the lemons and passion, the other for all you have lost. Both empty, it will come to your shoulder, breathe slowly against your bare arm. If you offer it hay, it will eat. Offered nothing, it will stand as long as you ask. The little bells of the bridle will hang beside you quietly, in the heat and the tree's thin shade. Do not let its sparse mane deceive you, or the way the left ear swivels into dream. This too is a gift of the gods. Calm and complete.
B. Poetry of Spirit
When the black snake flashed onto the morning road, and the truck could not swerve— death, that is how it happens. Now he lies looped and useless as an old bicycle tire. I stop the car and carry him into the bushes.
C. Poetry of Nature
Answer:
the best answer choice would be A
Explanation:
