My Favorite Place

Essay by PaperNerd ContributorCollege, Undergraduate November 2001

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My favorite place is a place that I have in my head. It's my future home in the Hamptons. There are many long rooms, and fun games, and much, much more. Whenever I'm there in the summer, if it's nice, I sleep outside. Anything can happen there.

My body twitches. I try to open my eyes, but they're too heavy. I try and open them quickly, and realize the beautiful pink and yellow sunrise. I sit up and throw my dark blue sleeping bag off me. I'm too hot. I stand up and feel the dewy grass in between my toes, and it's cold. I can still see my breath and I exhale. I turn around and run across the bridge that overlaps the pond. The bridge is wood painted red. The red is faint. I stop in the center of the bridge and look out. The faint sunlight glistens across the water.

I turn and keep running until I reach a large tan brick house. The porch seems to rap around the whole house. I step on to the porch and look down. Wet grass is spattered across my feet. I wipe it off. I look up at the giant pear colored door, and open it.

        I enter an open circular room that faces my pond. Long, rectangular windows fallow the room all the way around. A large fish tank is to the left of me. It's a 350-gallon tank. There are 30 fish, from goldfish to catfish. They are all there. To the right of me is the kitchen. The floor is a glossy white tile. The walls are painted dark red. Large countertops fill the kitchen. In the center, is an island where there is a bowl filled with grapes, bananas, apples, oranges, and peaches. A long,