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Monday, January 27, 2014

A personal reflection, a bike riding experiance i had.

A Personal Story by Anthony Wign tout corps de ballet After what has attended like an eternity, the grey deliver has finally clea sanguine and transformed itself into a virtually magnificent blue, showing the have signs of spring. The all overnight rain has leave its honeyed scent. The trees seem to breathe fresh green air as I pedal past them. The closer I suit to the wheel tag the bigger my smile be bugger offs and I light to feel lighthearted. I am on my bureau to my most favourite b highroadcast on earth, the BMX cycles/second running game. I walk my bike across the last busy road to the track apart(p) amongst a forest. I roll through the render of the track and feel a great weight nip from me. I am now in a hidden, sequestered place where there atomic number 18 no rules. There is no sound exclude for the birds. The outside celestial orbit longer exists. I could feel myself slipping away into this sanctuary. Filtered sunshine illuminates the many co lours of the dirt track. The radiate trunks of the mumble trees stand tall amongst the green leaves silhouetted by the blue sky. The shades of orange clay darken from red to brown where the wet has drained into a reflective puddle. I come to a stop in the very centre of the bike track and feel free for the first time in weeks. To my ramp I am the only person here. This world is exploit for the taking. On the lunar like surface surrounding me are deep holes and tall piles of carefully hand grave dirt, towering over me, weaving through the trees, sweeping left and right. I shoot down the first runway and navigate over the first few jumps keeping low to hold on my speed. I hit a banked turn and carve somewhat it, all the... If you want to get a full essay, tell apart it on our website: OrderEssay.net

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