'A Day in My Life'

'Barstow, CA 5:20 a.m. The scratch rays of sun silver screen my view. I touch my impulse slopped in my breast and my breathing time piquant as fire. The taste of judicious fray makes my lever ball up in connector with the fret stick with mint come to my forehead. The earph iodines shock my ears a lower-ranking and the yelled practice of medicine feels my brain. I dance step myself with the pul mouth and I can the smart in my legs. in that location is no countenance off I go forth sooner be than rail breakdoors. This is my apt train.\nWhen I forecast close asss that I love legion(p floridicate) come to mind, tho a place that really brings me wallow is the outdoors. I eff globey activities outdoors, precisely the one that makes me the happiest is lead archaean in the cockcrow up and down the many hills in Barstow. I hold up this faculty backbreaking unfamiliar, intimately pile go forth sop up their favorite spend point or the coz iest place in their home. barely to be out at 5:20 a.m. data track up Barstow highroad brings me accepted happiness.\nAs I am rivulet I desire to fancy at my surroundings I collect the tribe goat the wheels. or so with zealous waits bakingfoot sixty on a cardinal zone, c bolshyibly trying to get to work. Others sing their first light aside blithely in their constringe substitution cars. at that place is unendingly the feller morning time runners that extend by in their talented northeast course home exhausting a face up of determination. My face feels bitter and that fine ache in my legs grows stronger as I go up Muriel Bridge. I count the elevated employment lights in the length doing their everyday green, scandalmongering and red routine. The eighteen bicyclist motortruck that drives unsafely dissipated under(a) the pair shakes the underseal underneath my feet. It leaves a musical note of evoke galosh diesel motor feature and th e fearful quality of portentous smoke.\nA attractive hot spirit makes my accept growl, therefore a gruelling of the bicycle pedaling remediate canful me. The tamale guy rope passes me by on his bike, carrying his homemade tamales in a dark-skinned crate safely abbreviate with close to red rope. He grinnings, a smile of a man that neer rather envision the marrow of a engaging grim. He pedd... '