essay as i entered the room

Neuroscience and psychology news and views.

Why you forget what you came for when you enter the room

Forgetting why you entered a room is called the “Doorway Effect”, and it may reveal as much about the strengths of human memory, as it does the weaknesses, says psychologist Tom Stafford.

We’ve all done it. Run upstairs to get your keys, but forget that it is them you’re looking for once you get to the bedroom. Open the fridge door and reach for the middle shelf only to realise that we can’t remember why we opened the fridge in the first place. Or wait for a moment to interrupt a friend to find that the burning issue that made us want to interrupt has now vanished from our minds just as we come to speak: “What did I want to say again?” we ask a confused audience, who all think “how should we know?!”

Although these errors can be embarrassing, they are also common. It’s known as the “Doorway Effect”, and it reveals some important features of how our minds are organised. Understanding this might help us appreciate those temporary moments of forgetfulness as more than just an annoyance (although they will still be annoying).

These features of our minds are perhaps best illustrated by a story about a woman who meets three builders on their lunch break. “What are you doing today?” she asks the first. “I’m putting brick after sodding brick on top of another,” sighs the first. “What are you doing today?” she asks the second. “I’m building a wall,” is the simple reply. But the third builder swells with pride when asked, and replies: “I’m building a cathedral!”

Maybe you heard that story as encouragement to think of the big picture, but to the psychologist in you the important moral is that any action has to be thought of at multiple levels if you are going to carry it out successfully. The third builder might have the most inspiring view of their day-job, but nobody can build a cathedral without figuring out how to successfully put one brick on top of another like the first builder.

As we move through our days our attention shifts between these levels – from our goals and ambitions, to plans and strategies, and to the lowest levels, our concrete actions. When things are going well, often in familiar situations, we keep our attention on what we want and how we do it seems to take care of itself. If you’re a skilled driver then you manage the gears, indicators and wheel automatically, and your attention is probably caught up in the less routine business of navigating the traffic or talking to your passengers. When things are less routine we have to shift our attention to the details of what we’re doing, taking our minds off the bigger picture for a moment. Hence the pause in conversation as the driver gets to a tricky junction, or the engine starts to make a funny sound.

The way our attention moves up and down the hierarchy of action is what allows us to carry out complex behaviours, stitching together a coherent plan over multiple moments, in multiple places or requiring multiple actions.

The Doorway Effect occurs when our attention moves between levels, and it reflects the reliance of our memories – even memories for what we were about to do – on the environment we’re in.

Imagine that we’re going upstairs to get our keys and forget that it is the keys we came for as soon as we enter the bedroom. Psychologically, what has happened is that the plan (“Keys!”) has been forgotten even in the middle of implementing a necessary part of the strategy (“Go to bedroom!”). Probably the plan itself is part of a larger plan (“Get ready to leave the house!”), which is part of plans on a wider and wider scale (“Go to work!”, “Keep my job!”, “Be a productive and responsible citizen”, or whatever). Each scale requires attention at some point. Somewhere in navigating this complex hierarchy the need for keys popped into mind, and like a circus performer setting plates spinning on poles, your attention focussed on it long enough to construct a plan, but then moved on to the next plate (this time, either walking to the bedroom, or wondering who left their clothes on the stairs again, or what you’re going to do when you get to work or one of a million other things that it takes to build a life).

And sometimes spinning plates fall. Our memories, even for our goals, are embedded in webs of associations. That can be the physical environment in which we form them, which is why revisiting our childhood home can bring back a flood of previously forgotten memories, or it can be the mental environment – the set of things we were just thinking about when that thing popped into mind.

The Doorway Effect occurs because we change both the physical and mental environments , moving to a different room and thinking about different things. That hastily thought up goal, which was probably only one plate among the many we’re trying to spin, gets forgotten when the context changes.

It’s a window into how we manage to coordinate complex actions, matching plans with actions in a way that – most of the time – allows us to put the right bricks in the right place to build the cathedral of our lives.

This is my BBC Future column from Tuesday. The original is here

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A blackandwhite photo of a screenedin porch. A child sits at a table inside the porch and an adult stands outside...

Summers in Kansas City in the nineteen-thirties were so hot that my mother’s father moved his bed into the porch, which opened off the living room and was screened on three sides. My grandmother spent many hours there, too, mostly reading in a big wicker chair between a card table and a floor lamp. The house I grew up in also had a screened porch, which my parents added when I was eleven. That house had primitive central air-conditioning, installed by a previous owner, but running it was so expensive that my mother could seldom persuade my father to turn it on. In hot weather, the porch became our family room, dining room, playroom, and party room, and when I was in high school my girlfriend and I sometimes took my mother’s little black-and-white kitchen TV out there and turned up the volume so that we could hear “ M*A*S*H ” or “Love, American Style” above the droning of what seemed to be millions of cicadas. My own house, in Connecticut, has two porches, one screened and one not. The screened one is a great place to read on summer evenings. I once looked up from “ Bleak House ” and saw two black bears walking by, thirty or forty feet away. They looked less like bears than like men wearing bear suits.

During hot months in the era before air-conditioning, a porch was usually the coolest room in a house; now it’s often the hottest. I can tell from Google Earth that most of the screened porches I knew when I was a kid have been closed in, presumably so that they could be air-conditioned, too. Artificial climate control has become such a standard part of American life that to most people the loss doesn’t register as a loss, but it is one. My wife, whose name is Ann Hodgman, and I finally got air-conditioning a few years ago, after surviving thirty-seven New England summers without it, but we’re determined never to enclose either of our porches. One of them has recently become our favorite place to sleep.

Porches are semi-magical spaces, intermediate between inside and outside. Charlie Hailey, a professor of architecture at the University of Florida, has written—in “ The Porch ,” published in 2021—that porches embody “the benefits of public life, the thrills of nature, the atmosphere of weather, the exhilaration of coming and going, the calm of simply sitting down, the warmth of family and friends, and the restfulness of solitude.” For years, they also played a prominent role in American efforts to prevent, manage, or cure several devastating diseases, among them tuberculosis, influenza, and pneumonia. In many parts of the country, though, porches have either disappeared or ceased to serve anything like their original purposes. There are two comfortable-looking chairs on the front porch of a house not far from my house, but I’ve never seen anyone sitting in either of them. The porches that do survive constitute a fragile and weakening link to a past that most people have forgotten, if they ever knew about it at all.

In 2009, Hailey contributed a long article about porches to a scholarly journal called Traditional Dwellings and Settlements Review . In it, he quotes from a passage in John Adams’s diary in which Adams describes sharing a bed with Benjamin Franklin in a tiny room at an inn in New Brunswick, New Jersey, a month after they had signed the Declaration of Independence. The room had one small window, and Adams asked Franklin to close it, because he was “afraid of the Evening Air.” Franklin, according to Adams, “began an harrangue, upon Air and cold and Respiration and Perspiration, with which I was so much amused that I soon fell asleep.” Franklin’s theory, ahead of its time, held in part that colds are caused not by exposure to low temperatures or outside air but, Adams writes, “by breathing over again the matter thrown off, by the Lungs and the Skin.”

In 1776, and for a century afterward, many illnesses were believed to be caused by miasma, or foul-smelling vapors arising from swamps, excrement, polluted water, and the habitations of the poor. (The word “malaria” comes from “ mal aria ,” medieval Italian for “bad air.”) In the second half of the nineteenth century, though, anxieties about miasma began to be displaced by their virtual opposite: faith in the therapeutic value of keeping windows open. Florence Nightingale was a proponent of what became known as Nightingale hospital wards, in which beds were arranged in rows in rooms with lots and lots of windows, partly to admit light but mainly to increase the flow of outside air. In her book “ Notes on Hospitals ,” published in 1859, she writes that, in crowded wards with poor ventilation, “we are quite certain to have the air become so infected as to poison the blood not only of the sick, so as to increase their mortality, but also of the medical attendants and nurses, so that they also shall become subjects of fever.”

Nightingale’s book contributed to a broad change in thinking about the relationship between respiration and disease. From roughly the time she wrote until the development of effective drug treatments for tuberculosis—beginning with the discovery of streptomycin, an antibiotic, in the nineteen-forties—open-air sleeping was one of the most frequently recommended therapies for pulmonary ailments of all kinds. (More radical interventions for tuberculosis included removing ribs, surgically collapsing diseased lungs, and severing the nerve that controlled the diaphragm.) Some sufferers believed that breathing cold air would cure them or relieve their symptoms, and they spent winter days wrapped in blankets on lounge chairs on porches at facilities like the Adirondack Cottage Sanitarium, in Saranac Lake, New York, which was founded, in 1884, by a great-grandfather of the cartoonist Garry Trudeau. Others sought relief by breathing hot, dry air; Scottsdale, Arizona, was known for years as White City, because of the many canvas tents pitched there by “lungers.”

In time, breathing itself came to be viewed as therapeutic. An article in Country Life in America from 1909 began:

“Sleep outdoors and be well.” This is the battle cry of an army of people who have “appeared in our midst” in little more than a year. They are twentieth-century crusaders whose Peter the Hermit is “oxygen.”

Foxcroft, a girls’ school in Middleburg, Virginia, which was founded in 1914, required boarders to sleep not in dormitory bedrooms but on open-air porches. People in the South had been sleeping on porches during hot weather for years, but Foxcroft students slept on theirs in cold weather, too, and they still do. “Sleeping porches are a distinctive part of our School culture and are instrumental in our mission to nurture healthy minds and healthy bodies,” the school’s Web site says today. Ann and I have a friend who graduated from Foxcroft in the seventies. She told me, “In the winter, we would dress up in our Lanz nighties and wool caps and heavy-duty socks and sweat pants, and cover ourselves with fourteen layers of blankets, but I loved it and, to this day, I keep a window open in our bedroom even when it’s freezing.”

During the influenza pandemic of 1918, which is believed to have killed fifty million people worldwide, health officials often urged people to sleep on porches or, at least, to keep their bedroom windows open. A homeowner whose house didn’t have a sufficiently well-ventilated space could buy a Korff Sleeping Porch, which bolted over a window and had screens, curtains, an awning, and room for a mattress. It was promoted by its manufacturer as “a big help in treating any disease—and especially necessary in the case of consumption.” (That word is treated nowadays as a synonym for tuberculosis, but for a long time it was applied to a number of pulmonary problems as well as to a general physical decline that sensitive, creative people were believed to be unusually susceptible to.) In “The Sleeping Porch,” a short film released in 1929, Raymond Griffith portrays an ailing stockbroker, whose wife, on his doctor’s orders, tells him that “sleeping on that porch is the only thing that is going to cure you.” He puts up a fight, but—spoiler alert—when the movie ends, he’s under several inches of snow. Parents who wanted to protect their children from flu and tuberculosis but worried about frostbitten ears could put them to bed in insulated hoods, which were sold for that purpose.

New Yorkers who live in old buildings heated by steam radiators often complain that they have to open windows during the winter to keep room temperatures in their apartments tolerable. Most assume that the cause is a flaw in the design of those buildings’ heating systems, but in many cases the excess heat was a deliberate response to the flu pandemic. Dan Holohan, in “ The Lost Art of Steam Heating Revisited ,” published in 1992, writes that, beginning about 1920, the authors of engineering manuals revised their recommendations for boilers and radiators in new construction. The changed specs called for equipment that was “large enough to heat the building on the coldest day of the year, with the windows open,” he writes. Those overheated buildings are, in effect, the remnants of an early theory about the prevention and treatment of respiratory disease.

Leland Ossian Howard was an entomologist on the staff of the U.S. Department of Agriculture. He went to work there in 1878, and later edited the department’s journal Insect Life . In 1911, he published a book called “ The House Fly, Disease Carrier: An Account of Its Dangerous Activities and of the Means of Destroying It .” In it, he mentions a “man who entered a dimly lighted railway restaurant and asked for ‘a piece of that huckleberry pie’ and was informed that it was not huckleberry but custard.” The man had misidentified the pie because it was covered with what Howard calls “typhoid flies.” At the time he wrote, flies were so plentiful in many parts of the country that they sometimes made kitchen and dining-room ceilings appear almost black. Horse manure—which abounded in New York and other cities until automobiles took over the streets—was a major contributor. So were horses that died in service, as thousands of them did every year. Because their corpses were so heavy, they were sometimes left to decompose until they could be pulled apart and removed piecemeal.

In warm weather, flies and other insects complicated the efforts of almost anyone trying to keep cool or to gain the putative health benefits of exposure to outside air. One defense, beginning in the late eighteen-hundreds, was flypaper, sheets of which were coated on one side with an oleaginous substance that lured flies, then permanently trapped them. A leading brand, invented by a pharmacist in Grand Rapids, Michigan, was Tanglefoot, a trade name that at one time was as familiar to American consumers as Kleenex and Xerox were later. Tanglefoot and similar products were used so widely that Allied soldiers during the First World War were told that they could identify the poison gas chloropicrin because it “smells like flypaper.”

Far more effective than flypaper was woven-wire screening, for windows, doors, and porches. The credit for introducing it is usually given to a company called Gilbert & Bennett, based in Connecticut. Benjamin Gilbert had started out as a leather tanner. Preparing hides yielded vast quantities of animal hair, and Gilbert’s wife and daughters wove some of it into screens for grain sieves. Sieves eventually became more profitable than leather. In the eighteen-thirties, Gilbert borrowed a carpet loom from a neighbor and began making the screens from metal wire instead. The company had many sieve customers in the South, and that market disappeared with the start of the Civil War. To stay in business, Gilbert & Bennett turned its inventory of unsold wire cloth into window screens. People had sometimes used cheesecloth or other fabrics to prevent insects from flying through open windows, but wire screens worked better, lasted longer, and were easier to keep clean. In 1893, the company exhibited its many screen-based products at the Chicago World’s Fair and promoted them in a souvenir booklet called “Wire Wonders.”

Woven-wire screening is seldom included in lists of nineteenth-century medical breakthroughs, but it belongs there. In 1897, Ronald Ross, a British medical officer who had lived in India, proved that malaria is caused not by miasma but by a parasite transmitted through the bite of a mosquito. That discovery, for which he won the Nobel Prize, in 1902, would have been less significant if screens didn’t make it possible to keep mosquitoes out of living spaces in the first place. (Albert Freeman Africanus King, a doctor who helped carry Abraham Lincoln out of Ford’s Theatre on the night he was shot, deduced the connection between mosquitoes and malaria at least fifteen years before Ross proved it. In 1882, he suggested protecting Washington, D.C., by building an immense wire-mesh enclosure over the city—less a serious proposal than an observation about cause and effect.)

Screens also contributed to the popularity of open-air sleeping. President William Taft had a screened sleeping porch built on the roof of the White House in 1910, and he and his family slept there on sweltering nights when they couldn’t escape from Washington. The following year, an article in the Rensselaer, Indiana, Evening Republican noted that a prominent resident of Kansas City had been sleeping on his porch for several years. According to the article, his wife said, “He liked it so well that our neighbors took up the idea and now of the 10 homes in the block only three are without sleeping porches.”

Many of the houses in my parents’ neighborhood were built not long after that, and I can tell from their fenestration that a number of them almost certainly had sleeping porches, too, since each has at least one second-floor room with multiple tightly spaced windows on three sides. My parents’ house originally had two sleeping porches, both upstairs, one east and one west. We never used either as the architect intended, although one of them opened off my parents’ bedroom and my mother slept there to escape from my father’s snoring. On the hottest summer nights, my sister, my brother, and I turned our own rooms into sleeping porches, by going to bed “upside down”: on top of the covers, with our heads at the feet of our respective beds, as close as possible to the screened, wide-open windows.

A couple of years ago, Ann and I began occasionally sleeping on our screened porch, on a queen-size foam mattress. Last year, I realized that, if we rearranged some furniture, we could turn the unscreened porch into a full-time sleeping porch. I bought a fourteen-inch-tall metal frame, to make it easier for two people in their late sixties to get into and out of bed. I also bought a king-size zippered, weatherproof storage bag, which is big enough to protect the mattress and all the bedding, including pillows and blankets, when no one’s using that bed. We just unzip it and roll down the top before we go to sleep.

The only remaining issue was bugs. That porch has a rustic railing, built a little more than twenty years ago from irregular lengths of unpeeled cedar; it looks like the web of a giant spider. Permanently screening in the opening would have meant removing or ruining the railing, as well as partially obstructing the view, so I bought a tent-shaped mosquito net, which was just large enough to enclose the bed, and hung it from hooks that I screwed into the ceiling. Mosquito nets, in one form or another, have existed for centuries, and they remain one of the most effective tools for fighting malaria, yellow fever, and other insect- and arachnid-transmitted diseases. (Ann has an entire mosquito-net suit, which she wears when she works in the yard.) But our mosquito net was, for us, an imperfect solution, especially if the wind was blowing, or one of us rolled over, or we had trouble finding an opening in the dark. Luckily, through the miracle of the Internet, I discovered MosquitoCurtains .com , a company that custom-makes heavy mesh screens that hang from metal tracks and can be pushed aside when they aren’t in use. I measured the porch and ordered one that day.

Mosquito Curtains was founded by Kurt Jordan, who spent eighteen years as a bond trader but came to hate the job. He made his first screen, for his own porch, with help from a local tailor, then eventually began making screens for other people. He enjoyed doing that more than he did working with Wall Street types, but perfecting the design and establishing the business took several nerve-racking years. He told me, “I remember my daughter saying, ‘Daddy, why do you walk around all night?’ ” Now, though, he employs eighteen or nineteen people full time, and sleeps well. We spoke on the phone recently. He said that, at that moment, they were working on a mesh enclosure for “a koi-pond fanatic,” who wanted to protect his fancy fish from raptors.

“We once used white shade mesh to make three projection screens for a guy in Guatemala who had a little drive-in theatre,” he said. He also co-invented a screen cover for the doors of passenger-filled airplanes parked at airports in the tropics. Mainly, though, he makes screen curtains for people who, like me, have an outdoor space that they’d like to keep bugs out of at least some of the time. Most of his customers install theirs on porches, decks, gazebos, or pool houses, but there are other possible uses, including transforming an ordinary garage into a pop-up porch or open-air workshop.

My mosquito curtain is nineteen feet wide and just under eight feet tall, and, unless the setting sun is hitting it straight on, it’s close to invisible. Installing it—with guidance from videos starring Jordan himself—took me parts of two afternoons. The trickiest step was using a provided cutting tool to insert half a dozen pairs of rare-earth magnets into sewn seams on either side of the end that opens and closes; the magnets are so strong I can make one stick to the back of my hand by holding another in my palm. Ann and I and our dog, a poodle, now sleep on that porch many nights when the forecast is between room temperature and six or eight degrees above freezing. We often hear coyotes or owls as we’re nodding off, and we are sometimes awakened by more noisy songbirds than I had realized live in our neighborhood.

When Kurt Jordan started his company, he wondered about the likely location of his market’s “fifty-fifty line”—the latitude that would divide his customer base in half. He told me that the line has turned out to be farther north than he would have guessed, and that he sells more mosquito curtains in Ohio than he does in Georgia, where he lives. Jerry Hogsette, a research entomologist at the U.S.D.A. who is based in Gainesville, Florida, told him that, because mosquitoes in the North have a briefer breeding season than mosquitoes in the South, more of them are usually active and biting at the same time. I spoke with Hogsette, too, and he said that some of the fiercest mosquito seasons in the United States are as far north as you can go. “In Alaska, they used to kill people by stripping them and tying them in canoes and sending them down the rivers,” he told me. “They were exsanguinated by the mosquitoes. You can also get large clouds that will suffocate animals in the field, because every time the animals breathe in, they fill their lungs with mosquitoes.”

Screens are such an effective low-tech, nontoxic, inexpensive defense against flying insects that you’d think you’d see them everywhere. But that’s not the case. My friend Lynn recalls visiting relatives in Eastern Europe. “They lived on a farm, and their house was really close to the barn, where they kept pigs,” she told me. “There weren’t any screens on the windows, and flies basically covered all the food they’d laid out for us.” At first, Lynn said, she and her mother couldn’t stand the thought of eating anything, but eventually they copied their hosts, and took quick bites while waving one hand above their plate. Lynn’s mother asked why none of the houses they’d seen had screens, and their host said, “How will the flies get out?” That trip took place in the nineteen-seventies, but Hogsette told me that screens are still relatively uncommon outside the United States. “It seems like a no-brainer,” he said, “but I’ve been on six of the seven continents, and I don’t know that I’ve seen screens just about anywhere but here.”

With COVID , porches actually have something like the medical value that people back in the sanatorium era erroneously believed they had, not because breathing porch air cures anything but for the reason Florence Nightingale deduced: breezes blowing through the screens make it less likely that the coronavirus will drift from one person to another. Before the first vaccines were available, Ann and I were visited by a friend who was worried about catching COVID and exposing his wife. He wouldn’t come into the house, but he was happy to sit at one end of our screened porch while Ann and I sat at the other: a pandemic living room. Sleeping behind our mosquito curtain feels healthy, too, though not for any scientifically provable reason. We both sleep better on the porch, somehow. There have even been nights when I haven’t got up to pee.

The appeal of a good porch is not species-specific. Our poodle, who is fourteen and is both deaf and blind, sleeps better on the porch, too, and often stays sacked out, pressed against Ann’s leg or mine, until seven-thirty or eight in the morning—a good hour longer than he usually lasts when we sleep inside. The house we owned before this one also had a screened porch. We kept a pillow-like dog bed in one corner, right next to the screens, and every summer the dogs we owned then, two miniature dachshunds, would spend hours curled up there, watching, listening, sniffing, sleeping. Early on a sunny morning in February, one of the dachshunds scratched at the door in the kitchen which led into the porch. I opened the door, and the dog ran to the dog bed. The temperature was in the low teens, and snow had blown in through the screens, but he climbed in anyway. Then he climbed out. I shook off the snow and went back inside. Ann and I watched from a window as he sat stiffly on the bed, studying the yard and (I assume) thinking wistful WTF dog thoughts about weather. After five heartbreaking minutes, he returned to the door and scratched to be let back in. ♦

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Con Sofrito facing immediate eviction after…

Latest Headlines

Subscriber only, con sofrito facing immediate eviction after party attended by nyc pols ruled illegal.

Con Sofrito, a controversial Bronx club, is facing immediate eviction after a judge ruled that a party it threw on June 9, 2024, was among a number of events violating a court order. (Court Evidence)

In an intriguing twist, one of the events deemed illegal by the judge was attended by City Sheriff Anthony Miranda and Jeffrey Garcia, a nightlife adviser to Mayor Adams, the Daily News has learned.

In February, the Westchester Square club — which is owned by Richard Caban, the brother of NYPD Commissioner Edward Caban — entered into a court settlement with its landlord requiring it to shut down for good by Aug. 31 after operating an illegally built “party room” in the establishment’s parking lot. The settlement drew headlines at the time as the party room had been patronized by a number of city and NYPD officials, including Commissioner Caban and Adams, who celebrated his 62nd birthday there last summer.

In addition to closing down, the settlement required Con Sofrito to stop using the party space.

But in previously unreported papers filed in Bronx Civil Court in early July, Con Sofrito’s landlord, Joseph Dedona, alleged that while Con Sofrito’s operators eventually tore down the party room, they replaced it with other allegedly illegal structures in the parking lot, including a stage and a lounge area.

The June 9 event, which was billed as an “after party” to that day’s Puerto Rican Day Parade in Manhattan, took place in the parking lot’s new lounge area. As a result, Dedona argued in court papers that the event was illegal and that the presiding judge should void the settlement and allow him to immediately evict Con Sofrito.

In a ruling late Monday, Bronx Civil Court Judge Cynthia Isales sided with Dedona and ruled he can proceed immediately to evict the club. The judge wrote in the ruling that Con Sofrito’s owners “failed to demonstrate an excusable default and meritorious defense” against the accusation that the June party as well as several other events held in the parking lot since the February settlement were illegal.

Jamie Shreck, an attorney for Dedona, confirmed he planned to serve the club with the required 14-day eviction notice Tuesday, though the club was already facing the Aug. 31 deadline to vacate the premises.

Richard Caban didn’t return a request for comment. In a July 19 court filing, Caban argued the new structures erected for the outdoor gatherings weren’t illegal under the settlement since they were “temporary” and “movable,” unlike the “permanent” party room it has torn down.

Although court filings didn’t detail who attended the June party, photos reviewed by The News show Miranda was there. In one picture from the party, Miranda is seen being embraced by Jimmy Rodriguez, Con Sofrito’s manager.

Reached over phone late Monday, Miranda, who was appointed to his sheriff post by Adams in early 2022, wouldn’t comment on whether he knew about Con Sofrito’s legal tussles when he attended the June shindig. A spokeswoman for Miranda’s office didn’t return a request for comment.

Mayor Eric Adams announced the appointment of hospitality industry veteran Jeffrey Garcia, right, to lead the Office of Nightlife on Nov. 17, 2023.

A source directly familiar with the matter confirmed Garcia, the city’s so-called “nightlife mayor,” was also in attendance at the June Con Sofrito event.

Garcia, who, like Miranda, is a former NYPD officer, was picked for the nightlife post by Adams in late 2023. As part of that role, Garcia’s tasked with serving as a municipal liaison to the city’s nightlife industry. Garcia didn’t return a request for comment on via the mayor’s office.

In addition to Garcia and Miranda, other notable attendees at the June event included ex-Bronx Councilwoman Marjorie Velazquez . She declined to comment this week.

The eviction case isn’t the only legal headache Richard Caban and his Con Sofrito partners are facing.

In a separate June 26 filing in Bronx Supreme Court, Dedona argued the club operators should be held in criminal and civil contempt for also violating the settlement by not tearing down the original party room by a March 1 deadline.

“Enough is enough. [Con Sofrito] must be sanctioned for its actions, otherwise it will continue to do as it pleases,” Dedona wrote in that filing.

The contempt demand remains pending before a Bronx Supreme Court judge.

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Dystopian Creative Writing: The Room

Here is an excellent exemplar of creative writing based on the conventions of Dystopia.

This is a student piece written by Mohamed Zakaria bin Mohamed Said. It is entitled, ‘The Room’. Thank you for sharing your writing.

The small dull-grey clock read 8:30am. I rise from the simple white linen and I look over the suffocating space around me that I have lived around me that I have lived in my entire life. The room consists of a bed, old and rickety, a chair and desk, both are brown and worn and a small toilet. I find none of the qualities in these objects beautiful because they are not mine. I have only ever known the dry dusty room that is laid out so precisely before me.

I move through my room with a sense of nostalgia that finds me at the beginning of everyday. Eyes on my ceiling monitor me like old owls. I feel trapped under their gaze. At 8:40am, the desk in front of me materializes food on a shiny transparent plate and as I eat, I weigh my past against my future. Both are without change. I try to think about who I am and where I came from, but these thoughts lead me to the fact that my identity is defined by the confines of the space around me. I stare up into the eyes again. My whole life I have been under their withering gaze, stripped of my humanity, a captive and dying prey.

My clock shows 9:00am and I begin the next part of my day. The struggle of staying sane . I have no concept of years, months, weeks, or days but only the time that I get from my old clock. I have no control over my life, that is in the hands of creatures that watch me through their mechanical eyes. Time is transcendent, it proves to me that I exist. Do the white eyes control that as well?

Out of the corner of my eye a silhouette emerges, moving slowly. A spider crawls up over the chair looking about occasionally as he makes his way up to his web. The hairs on his legs shine silver and his black eyes reflect the grey room around him. I walk over to the chair to find the empty plate and I place it over the spider. At first the spider notices nothing of his new enclosure but he eventually realizes. He did not notice the plate or the change in air pressure but the spider noticed my piercing gaze burn through the plate. He felt surveyed and it was only then that the spider found his incarceration. Panic and claustrophobia enclosed the old grey spider like suffocating smoke. His black eyes darted about, his legs thrashed against the walls of the glass. Eventually the spider will die, but until then he would be stuck in a world fixed by the spaces around him. But I will never let that fate befall anyone and I release the spider.

At 9:30, something different happened. I was talking to the eyes in my ceiling when tears or fury and fire filled my eyes, and I wanted the creature in the ceiling to feel justice. A fire started, I felt incensed and betrayed I wanted somebody to understand. I wanted to communicate to the monster that what they were doing to me was wrong. I moved quickly across the room to use my strength against the worn chair and the brown desk. They were part of the reason that I was alive and trapped here. I was a fire, screaming, yelling and overcome with hatred. The sound of my voice became distorted and monstrous as it echoed from the walls. I was distraught and I wanted to become violent. A fire needs oxygen and I was running out of it in my enclosure.

After that it all changed. The light next to the eyes in my ceiling died. The light over my head burnt out. Everything around me was like infinite night. There was no sound but my racing heart and my rapid breathing. I am going to die. I had angered the creatures that kept me here. I had made them upset and they are going to kill me like I was going to kill the spider under the plate.

A part of the grey wall slid open revealing a long white clean open corridor. There was a wave of fresh cool air and smell that was pleasurable compared to the rancid stink in my room. I expected to die but nothing happened. I realized that just outside of was another world, outside of this room represents change. By stepping out of the room I would never go back. Somebody had released me. Somebody had felt enough pity or strength to free me of from my cage. Like a baby taking its first steps, I walked out of the Room.

Aaron Sorkin: How I Would Script This Moment for Biden and the Democrats

A standing microphone hangs over the president’s desk in the Oval Office. In the background are gold curtains and a Childe Hassam painting of American flags.

By Aaron Sorkin

Mr. Sorkin is a playwright and screenwriter.

Update: Joe Biden announced on Sunday that he would not seek re-election.

The Paley Center for Media just opened an exhibition celebrating the 25th anniversary of “The West Wing,” the NBC series I wrote from 1999 to 2003. Some of the show’s story points have become outdated in the last quarter-century (the first five minutes of the first episode depended entirely on the audience being unfamiliar with the acronym POTUS), while others turned out to be — well, not prescient, but sadly coincidental.

Gunmen tried to shoot a character after an event with President Bartlet at the end of Season 1. And at the end of the second season, in an episode called “Two Cathedrals,” a serious illness that Bartlet had been concealing from the public had come to light, and the president, hobbled, faced the question of whether to run for re-election. “Yeah,” he said in the third season opener. “And I’m going to win.”

Which is exactly what President Biden has been signaling since the day after his bad night.

Because I needed the “West Wing” audience to find President Bartlet’s intransigence heroic, I didn’t really dramatize any downward pull that his illness was having on his re-election chances. And much more important, I didn’t dramatize any danger posed by Bartlet’s opponent winning.

But what if the show had gone another way?

What if, as a result of Bartlet revealing his illness, polling showed him losing to his likely opponent? And what if that opponent, rather than being simply unexceptional, had been a dump truck of ignorance and bad intentions? What if Bartlet’s opponent had been a dangerous imbecile with an observable psychiatric disorder who related to his supporters on a fourth-grade level and treated the law as something for suckers and poor people? And was a hero to white supremacists?

We’d have had Bartlet drop out of the race and endorse whoever had the best chance of beating the guy.

The problem in the real world is that there isn’t a Democrat who is polling significantly better than Mr. Biden. And quitting, as heroic as it may be in this case, doesn’t really put a lump in our throats.

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United States Department of Agriculture

Risk Management Agency

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Press Releases

USDA Announces Changes to Enhanced Coverage Option Insurance Program

News release.

WASHINGTON, July 29, 2024 – The U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) announced changes to the Enhanced Coverage Option (ECO) beginning with the 2025 crop year. USDA’s Risk Management Agency (RMA) is expanding coverage options to additional crops as well as increasing premium support to make the policy more affordable for producers.

“The Risk Management Agency is continually responding to producer needs and adapting our insurance coverage options to give producers more choices when it comes to managing their risks,” said RMA Administrator Marcia Bunger. “This expansion is part of RMA’s larger effort to provide more options for specialty crop producers.”

ECO is currently approved for 36 crops and RMA is expanding coverage options to almonds, apples, blueberries, grapes, and walnuts for the 2025 crop year and to citrus crops where the Supplemental Coverage Option is currently available in California and Arizona for the 2026 crop year.

Additionally, RMA is increasing premium support for all crops covered by ECO to 65% to make the policy more affordable.

ECO provides additional area-based coverage for a portion of a producer’s underlying crop insurance policy deductible. ECO can be purchased as an endorsement to Yield Protection, Revenue Protection, Revenue Protection with the Harvest Price Exclusion or Actual Production History. ECO offers producers a choice of 90 or 95% trigger levels. Trigger is the percentage of expected yield or revenue at which a loss becomes payable.

ECO coverage is unaffected by participation in USDA’s Farm Service Agency’s (FSA) Agriculture Risk Coverage program for the same crop, on the same acres. Producers may select ECO regardless of FSA farm program election.

More Information

Crop insurance is sold and delivered solely through private crop insurance agents. A list of crop insurance agents is available at all USDA Service Centers and online at the RMA Agent Locator . Producers can learn more about crop insurance and the modern farm safety net at rma.usda.gov or by contacting their RMA Regional Office .

RMA secures the future of agriculture by providing world class risk management tools to rural America through Federal crop insurance and risk management education programs. RMA provides policies for more than 130 crops and is constantly working to adjust and create new policies based on producer needs and feedback.

USDA touches the lives of all Americans each day in so many positive ways. Under the Biden-Harris administration, USDA is transforming America’s food system with a greater focus on more resilient local and regional food production, fairer markets for all producers, ensuring access to safe, healthy and nutritious food in all communities, building new markets and streams of income for farmers and producers using climate smart food and forestry practices, making historic investments in infrastructure and clean energy capabilities in rural America, and committing to equity across the Department by removing systemic barriers and building a workforce more representative of America. To learn more, visit usda.gov .

USDA is an equal opportunity provider, employer, and lender.

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9 Exceptional Korean Restaurants to Try in South Florida
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9 Must-Try Miami Spice Lunch Deals

Where to snag the best value

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Entering its 23rd year, Miami Spice—a two-month restaurant promotion where participating restaurants offer prix-fixe lunch menus for $30 or $35—kicks off on August 1. Diners can opt for add-ons or unique dining experiences at select venues. With more than 230 restaurants participating, choosing where to go can be overwhelming. Thankfully, we’ve narrowed it down for you.

Please note: beverages, tax, and gratuity are not included.

Michael's Genuine Food & Drink

This staple neighborhood favorite keeps crowds coming for its classic American fare prepared with creativity and care. Enjoy the $35 Miami Spice lunch Monday through Friday with appetizers like French onion soup croquette, marinated mussels with gigante beans and grilled sourdough bread, and halloumi cheese with mango chutney. Mains are varied and include short rib panini with tomato chutney, cobia Meunier, and grilled chicken kofta with yogurt, dill, roti, and mint chutney.

Wrap things up with an espresso flan served with a warm sugar doughnut or banana upside-down cake.

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Le Jardinier

Executing beautiful, vegetable-forward dishes, this Michelin-starred restaurant offers a selection of bright, flavor-packed options for lunch all week long. Begin with melon gazpacho or burrata tomato salad before moving on to classics like pan-seared salmon with pinenut gremolata, roasted chicken with cilantro yogurt marinade, or squid ink linguine with vegetable ratatouille. End with a tropical mango passion fruit cake.

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Head to this swanky Korean steakhouse on weekdays to snag a $35 lunch that includes a selection of dishes like black truffle shrimp salad, tuna tartare, fried chicken, and bibimbop. Add $25 more and experience the restaurant’s Butcher’s Lunch (prime hanger steak, dry-aged ribeye, galbi, and sides).

38 Essential Restaurants in Miami, Summer 2024

Pastis Miami

This bustling brasserie in the heart of Wynwood offers a Miami Spice lunch Monday through Friday for $35. The menu features a selection of French classics, like onion soup, escargots, and warm shrimp salad with lemon beurre blanc. Heartier fare includes the Cheeseburger à l’Américaine and spaghetti bolognese. End with chocolate mousse or crème brûlée, or for a more tropical take, passionfruit tart.

9 Delicious New Brunches to Check Out in Miami

Where to Eat in Wynwood Right Now

Serving modern Greek and Turkish food, this spot’s shady outdoor patio and extensive indoor seating regularly buzzes with happy patrons. For Miami Spice, the restaurant is offering a selection of cold meze (appetizers) like haydari (garlic yogurt with mint) and muhammara (roasted red pepper, pomegranate walnuts, garlic, and breadcrumbs). Main courses, or hot mezes, include grilled Turkish meatballs (kofte) and wood-fired chicken with onion, sumac, cherry tomatoes, and mint. End the meal with baklava or figs and walnuts. Available daily for $35 per person.

16 Fantastic Outdoor Patios for Alfresco Dining in Miami

Miss Crispy Rice

Those seeking a casual, fun omakase based around crispy rice will favor this popular spot inside Wynwood’s Oasis. The $35 price point (Thursday through Tuesday, noon to 4 p.m.) includes dumplings, crudo, a selection of crispy rice, nigiri, hand roll, soup, and dessert.

16 Miami Spice Dinner Menus Worth Checking Out

Omakase in South Florida: 16 Stellar Spots

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Joe's Stone Crab

Miami’s iconic restaurant offers diners an opportunity to experience its grandeur at the budget price of $35 for lunch during Miami Spice. Options abound, whether it’s Joe’s famous coleslaw, stone crab bisque, ginger salmon, or burger. End, of course, with the legendary Key lime pie. The Miami Spice menu is available Friday through Sunday.

11 Great Miami Spice 2024 Dinner Deals

This over-the-top restaurant is both a feast for the eyes and the palate. Offering an expansive selection at $30/per person (Monday through Sunday), diners can select from starters like salmon tartare with Korean spice, tiger prawn tempura, burrata kimchi, and prawn crackers. Main dishes include salmon teriyaki, grilled sea bass, spiced skirt steak, and miso-roasted cauliflower. Passionfruit chawanmushi and chocolate delice round out the meal.

Where to Celebrate Valentine’s Day in Miami, if You Must

Root & Bone Miami

Husband-and-wife chefs Janine Booth and Jeff McInnis showcase Southern comfort food with a prix-fixe $30 lunch menu (Monday-Friday) that includes biscuits, drunken deviled eggs, tea-brined fried chicken, and shrimp and grits. There is an impressive selection of spirits, including an expansive bourbon collection for an additional cost.

Where to Eat in South Miami: 16 Top Picks

As I Entered That Room...

So, it was a misty blue morning and I was tensed to the core with all my books lying beside me and I having no clue what to read and how to read. It was my English Literature's Board exam of Class 10th the next day and I was like that how will I cram up so much in just one day. With such thoughts flashing my mind, I heard some loud voices from one end of my house so I went into the direction and As I Entered That Room, I found my Mum, Papa and other family members watching and enjoying, The Kapil Sharma Show and Kapil has got lure for sure as I too sat there and that sitting did wonder. As soon as I started watching that show, all my stress got vanished. That was a two hour show and I watched till the end and I myself ended up my stomach aching because of all that laughter.

Kapil is indeed a great comedian. He has got so an awesome sense of humor that even if he stands still, one tends to laugh by seeing his face only. Then what to say when he starts speaking, cracking one joke after the other, audience just bustles into laughter. Once an old lady among the audience told that she is a heart patient and by watching Kapil's show, her blood pressure remains in control. Siddhu Paaji remarked this statement of her as the best one on the platform of The Kapil Sharma Show.

As a matter of course, what was remarked by the old lady is the very truth. Kapil makes us to laugh hard by his befitting replies, his dialogues and all his actions. Indeed he is doing a great job and may he bloom in his life for putting a smile on someone's face is the greatest and loveliest act of charity where he is making us laugh hard. In fact, saving lives also by his comedy. Now what can be more beautiful than this!

Makeup in free, boon for society, meaning of laugh in hindi - हिंदी में मतलब, meaning of laughing in hindi - हिंदी में मतलब, three types of movie watcher we all are surrounded with, tenderness turning into terror, 5 most anticipated hollywood movies for 2021, perfect (guitar chord) - ed sheeran.

College Essay: The World Inside My Bedroom

For me it’s my bedroom. It’s a place where I can learn who I am now and who I can become in the future. It’s a pretty ordinary room – just a queen bed, a desk, a chest of drawers, and a few posters taped to the wall – but it’s where I reflect on the importance of my actions and how I can learn from those actions and become a better person.

I feel safe and calm in my room, away from the chaos of the world. I play some of my favorite music. I sometimes sing , dance and let all my emotions out – emotions I’ve kept hidden from others, because I can’t find the right way to express them.

Sometimes I relax and just listen to the lyrics and try to understand what they’re saying to me. I begin to gain helpful insights into the events of the day: why things happen, and why people do the things they do. I start to accept that whatever happened is in the past and I can’t do anything about it. I begin to understand how the world works – and how I can have a greater effect on it. I reflect on where I’ve been, frustrated and upset of my failures while putting myself down, and think ahead to where I want to go, accepting those fails and persevering – and navigating how I need to get there.

My room is kind of a mirror, in which I see what I want to see, a strong, young Latina who will do anything to succeed, and not necessarily what everybody else sees. I see things about me that someone else might not. Some people will see only the superficial part of me , but if they become an important part of my life, I want to show them the best of me. I want them to understand I work hard to improve myself , and I drive myself to succeed : I am resilient and strong.

I also love to read in my room. A book can teach you many lessons. It can keep you in your room physically but take your mind anywhere. In reading, you can achieve a tranquility and understanding that you can’t find anywhere else. You can liberate your imagination. I think about what a story is trying to say to me. The book Carry On by Rainbow Rowell, for example, has taught me how we don’t always get what we want and that we have to go through many struggles in our lives to achieve our goals. It’s easier, I think, to understand the true message in a place that I can connect to, a place that I’ve made my own.

I’ve experienced a whole range of emotions in my room. I’ve laughed and cried, celebrated a birth in the family and mourned the death of grandparents.

My room is a place that has taught me many things. I learned to make good decisions, to let go of things that can’t be changed – and especially to learn from the past in order to make myself a better person in the future.

My room may be small, but it has had a huge impact on my life.

ThreeSixty Journalism,

a nonprofit program of the College of Arts and Sciences at the University of St. Thomas, uses the principles of strong writing and reporting to help diverse Minnesota youth tell the stories of their lives and communities.

Improving writing skills since 2002

(855) 4-ESSAYS

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As you enter the room.

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As I enter the room, the aroma of the freshly unpacked "True Sleeper" mattress topper is overwhelming. It smells like a McDonalds happy meal toy just out of its wrapper; a bit peculiar but rather distinct. That is soon overcome by sight of the excess amounts of what one might refer to as junk. Perhaps this is true to the untrained eye, but to the skilled, it carries a plethora of objects representative of my life. This is my room, although recently revamped, overflowing with memoirs from my past. To the right sits a bulletin board covered with pictures, notes, schedules, flyers, forms, and oodles of nonsense. When I catch one glimpse of that, my vision is forced away, further down to a more organized calendar. As I see what's to come, I also see what has come. . Slightly past the calendar is a group of glass shelves surrounded by a string of lights for ornamentation. It is within these shelves that something great lies which I refer to as my "concert shrine". Inside this shrine is a piano string broken from Ben Fold's Baldwin grand piano, CD inserts signed by Eve 6 and Weezer, a shirt signed by No Doubt, a workers pass from a 311 show, tickets from all the concerts I've been to, and an array of various other incredible items. These shelves also include several other interesting bits and pieces such as a complete collection of the talking plush Taco Bell dogs, a string of Homer Simpson lights, a zebra pattern lampshade, and a black light that has been waiting to be plugged in for many years. Furthering this journey to the upper right corner I come once more to my present. It is here which sits my most prized possession, my alpine white Gibson Les Paul Custom guitar. Every time my eyes pass this, my mouth drops in amazement. With such brilliant gold plated hardware and an amazing smooth white lustrous finish, it baffles me how this same effect could not be bestowed upon each and every pair of eyes that crossed paths with this marvelous item.

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1. football game.

Atmosphere in a Way You Will Never Forget The sun comes up, the sun goes down, to some this Friday is an ordinary day, but to me it is the night for football. ... School is over time to go to the Bison Locker Room. ... From the time I enter the locker room all I think about is the game. ... Coach enters the locker room with a stern look on his face; I can tell he means business at this point. ... The environment outside of the locker room is about the same as the locker room for us, but different for the crowd. ...

Word Count: 903
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Grade Level: High School

2. An Educational Visit to the Operation Room

Behind the door was the restricted area where we didn't enter in the prep-lab. ... When you enter to the OR, a big desk appears to you. ... You can't enter for either you are from the family of the unit or unless you have a permission for entrance. ... In addition, there is one operating room on the delivery suite unit. It contains the room of sterilized instruments, operation rooms, and recovery room. ...

Word Count: 1684
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3. The Victorian House

When he wanted peace and quiet he would retire to his study and the rest of the family was not allowed to enter without his special permission. ... It was also known as "The Salon", "The Drawing Room", "The Keeping Room", and "The Sitting Room". ... (That was the goal of the downstairs rooms: the parlor, the dining room, and the entry). ... Sometimes there was also a music room, music was very important to Victorians. ... Sometimes you could find a smoking room in the house. ...

Word Count: 1198
Approx Pages: 5
Has Bibliography

4. The red room

The characters create tension, as you never now fully what they are talking about, we don't even know their or the narrators name. ... It shows he is confident in the first line when he says, "I can assure you that it will take a very tangible ghost to frighten me." ... And you can tell he is good at maths, " he had worked at fractions and decimals. ... The suspense In the red room In the red suspense and tension is started to be created when On the way to the red room the Narrator entered a coradooor "the effect was scarcely what I expected for the moonlight, coming in by ...

Word Count: 1026

5. Hero's Journey

The doors were passing as he ran down the hall and entered the main lab where he could gain his supplies. First it was to the chemical room. ... "You can win, I have what you need and you will be dead in a minute. You lose. ... You told us everything while you were unconscious...

Word Count: 1948
Approx Pages: 8

6. Alex Jordan

On windy days it is said that you can feel the room sway with the wind. ... The Grand Piano plays as you walk through the room. ... When entering the room you will notice a giant bellows that encases a fine collection of blown glass paperweights. ... The brick road leads you through the town. ... This is like no other carousel you have ever seen. ...

Word Count: 1602
Approx Pages: 6

7. The Red Room

"What is the red room?" ... Is this room dangerous? ... This is the first line: "'I can assure you,' said I, 'that it will take a very tangible ghost to frighten me.'" ... Then as he approaches the door to the red room, the tension builds and he enters very quickly closing the door from essaybank.co.uk behind him. ... He personifies fear with the red room. ...

Word Count: 1687

8. My Dream Home

As you enter my forye, you will notice a water fountain with angels in it. ... The first thing you notice when you enter my living room is a large fireplace. ... To enter the library you need to enter through double glass doors. ... Everything in this room will remind you of this time period. ... To enter the second floor of my house you need to once again enter the forye, and walk past my fountain. ...

Word Count: 894

Teen named Brian Moore pens the Internet essay known as 'The Room'?

Barbara mikkelson, published feb. 19, 2002.

Claim: Shortly before he died, a teen named Brian Moore penned the Internet essay now known as "The Room."

Status: False.

Example: [Collected on the Internet, 2002]

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes meeting. It was his turn to lead the discussion so he sat down and wrote. He showed the essay, titled "The Room" to his mother, Beth, before he headed out the door. "I wowed 'em." he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer, It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them — the crepe paper that had adorned his locker during his senior football season, notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.

Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, — the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

Brian seemed to excel at everything he did. He was an honor student. He told his parents he loved them "a hundred times a day," Mrs. Moore said. He was a star wide receiver for the Teary's Valley Football team and had earned a four-year scholarship to Capital University in Columbus because of his athletic and academic abilities. He took it upon himself to learn how to help a fellow student who used a wheelchair at school. During one homecoming ceremony, Brian walked on his tiptoes so that the girl he was escorting wouldn't be embarrassed about being taller than him.

He adored his kid brother, Bruce, now 14. He often escorted his grandmother, Evelyn Moore, who lives in Columbus, to church. "I always called him the "deep thinker", Evelyn said of her eldest grandson.

Two years after his death, his family still struggles to understand why Brian was taken from them. They find comfort at the cemetery where Brian is buried, just a few blocks from their home. They visit daily. A candle and dozens of silk and real flowers keep vigil over the gravesite.

The Moore's framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him again someday." Mrs. Moore said. "It just hurts so bad now."

The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Brian Moore." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.

And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger," "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents."

I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I have listened to," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!"

In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep.

Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.

He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no, " as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood.

He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards.

I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

Origins: Here we have a tale that contains an element of truth, but that element has almost been entirely submerged by a "truth" many apparently would prefer to believe. Moreover, that "truth" masks an unsavory reality not many know

Brian Moore did read this essay aloud at a meeting of Christian athletes, and he did claim to his parents that he'd written it as an assignment for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes approximately two months before his death. The 17-year-old Teay's Valley High School student (not "Teary Valley," as claimed in the e-mail) did die on 27 May 1997 in the manner described. All that is true.

However, it's the little known story behind the story that proves most worthy of comment. You see, it turns out the deceased was a plagiarist. The piece he'd claimed authorship was actually the work of Joshua Harris, and it appeared in a book Harris published before Moore died. It had debuted two years earlier, in the Spring 1995 issue of New Attitude magazine, which was then edited by Harris.

Moore's parents had no reason to suspect the work in question was not their son's, and it was read at the boy's funeral. They and other relatives and friends subsequently broadcast the essay as his work, sincerely believing that it was. Only after the piece was published in The Columbus Dispatch on the anniversary of Moore's death did the truth about its authorship become known, when readers responded with corrections that pointed the newspaper to Harris and his book.

It's ironic that an essay describing the author's sense of shame over his personal accumulation of sins would be used by another to add a few file cards to his own stash. The dead boy not only stole someone else's work but also presented it as his own before a Christian fellowship he was part of and lied to his parents about it. That's three of the ten commandments right there (stealing, not honoring parents, and bearing false witness).

Barbara "lightning round" Mikkelson

Additional information:

Authorship Controversy ( JoshHarris.com )

Last updated: 5 March 2007

Sources: Gray, Alice (editor). Stories for a Faithful Heart. Sisters, OR: Multnomah Publishers, 2000. ISBN 0-913367-17-6 (pp. 235-237).

Harris, Joshua. I Kissed Dating Goodbye. Sisters, Oregon: Multnomah Press, 1997.

Riepenhoff, Jill. "Essay Wasn't Written By Teen." The Columbus Dispatch. 2 June 1999 (p. B1).

The Columbus Dispatch. "Teen's Essay Now His Eulogy." 1 June 1999 (p. A1).

By Barbara Mikkelson

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Home — Essay Samples — Life — Room — My Room – A Personal Sanctuary

My Room - a Personal Sanctuary

Categories: Personal Life Room

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Words: 730 |

Published: Sep 16, 2023

Words: 730 | Pages: 2 | 4 min read

The color palette, cozy corner, personalized decor, a canopy of dreams, the scent of serenity, a symphony of sounds, personal treasures, a place of reflection, in conclusion.

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You had been waiting outside the examination hall. Describe what you saw and the sounds you heard when you arrived at the place. What were your feelings? Describe how the scene changed once you entered the hall and the examination started.

During the examinations, most of us become very serious about our studies. it's the most crucial part of the academic year. also, one comes to realize the various natures of one's classmates and friends. those who don't speak to you, or are not friends with you, suddenly become so sweet and friendly right before the exam, so that they can get your notes. some friends break contact with you during the exams, so they can concentrate only on studying and learning. this year, too, was the same. right before entering the examination hall, the scene was completely different outside. at this very moment, there is complete silence, but a few minutes back, there was complete chaos. i reached the hall half an hour before the scheduled time. there were a few groups formed in the corridor. some of them consisted of students who were prepared and were discussing the points with the others. some groups were filled with people who had not prepared for this exam, and were seen doing some very nervous, last minute preparation. one looked so very nervous and tensed, like it was a matter of life and death for him. he had not studied at all the day before. he seemed pretty confident on the previous day, saying that the paper is not very difficult. "language is at the back of my hand." today, he came to know that there was a very important topic that we all had to study, since it was a new addition to the syllabus this year. i noticed that a few popular students approached a studious, shy boy, whom they had been picking on the entire year, so that he would explain to them the rules of conjunctions. he quickly retaliated, "you don't treat me properly the entire year and now you need my help" they all walked away in frustration, and the boy was proud of what he did. there were the others, scattered everywhere. they were either very well prepared, or they did not care about scoring good marks and were happy with the minimum score required for passing. as i stood in a secluded area, with few of my friends, i realized that i, too, was feeling a bit anxious about the exam. no matter how much one studies, there is always mixed feelings of excitement, for having studied well, as well as anticipation for what kind of questions might be asked. various doubts arose in my mind, "what if i have left out an important topic that will be asked in the paper", "what if i forget everything that i have studied", and the silliest of all, "what if my pen stops working in the middle of the exam". exams are truly a test for the patience of students as well as their families. as i opened my book for one quick revision, i heard the bell ring. the ringing of the bell that indicates that we should now enter the examination hall, is one of the most alarming noises that a student hears. it sounds like a death bell, ringing incessantly before we all surrender ourselves. the moment the bell rang, we all scurried into the hall, knowing that this was it, nothing more can be done. no new information can be studied now, and we can only hope for the best. very soon, the chaos-filled room turned completely silent, but the chaos in our minds still remained..

• How would you feel if you saw unknown footprints outside your front door?

• If you were alone at home and suddenly someone knocked at your door, what would you do?

When you entered your class what did you like?
Who was the first friend you made?
What did you enjoy doing the most?
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Write a story which includes the words, As i entered the room i saw. What i hated most (350-400)

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A sample story that starts with the given prompt is given below:

As I entered the room, I saw what I hated most and that was my family fighting and arguing; this time at the dinner table and I inwardly groaned and then rolled my eyes as if to make the ugly scene disappear.

I sat down at the dinner table in slow motion as my dad, mom and two sisters were arguing and shouting at the top of their lungs and for the 2,000th time, I asked myself why I was born into such a chaotic family as mine and then yelled: "Sh1ut up!!!"

What is Storytelling?

This refers to the narration that is used in order to show the events that occur in a given piece of scene or series of scenes where the plot elements are used, from exposition, to climax and then falling action and denouement.

Hence, it can be seen that the sample story with the prompt has been given above.

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Reading Anthology: Level 1

Why you forget what you came for when you enter a room.

By Tom Stafford

Posted March 11, 2016 at Mind Hacks

Forgetting why you entered a room is called the “Doorway Effect”, and it may reveal as much about the strengths of human memory, as it does the weaknesses, says psychologist Tom Stafford.

We’ve all done it. Run upstairs to get your keys, but forget that it is them you’re looking for once you get to the bedroom. Open the fridge door and reach for the middle shelf only to realize that we can’t remember why we opened the fridge in the first place. Or wait for a moment to interrupt a friend to find that the burning issue that made us want to interrupt has now vanished from our minds just as we come to speak: “What did I want to say again?” we ask a confused audience, who all think “how should we know?!”

Although these errors can be embarrassing, they are also common. It’s known as the “Doorway Effect”, and it reveals some important features of how our minds are organized. Understanding this might help us appreciate those temporary moments of forgetfulness as more than just an annoyance (although they will still be annoying).

The way our attention moves up and down the hierarchy of action is what allows us to carry out complex behaviors, stitching together a coherent plan over multiple moments, in multiple places or requiring multiple actions.

The Doorway Effect occurs when our attention moves between levels, and it reflects the reliance of our memories – even memories for what we were about to do – on the environment we’re in.

Why You Forget What You Came for When You Enter a Room . Authored by : Tom Stafford. Provided by : Mind Hacks. Located at : https://mindhacks.com/page/5/ . License : CC BY-NC-SA: Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike

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My Room Essay

Essay On My R oom , We all love our room where we enjoy, play, sleep. We all like that like because we have memories attached to it so here we have written lots of essays with topic “ My Room Essay ” That will surely helps students to learn skills of creative writing and writing about things they love. We write around 4 essays to help students in college and school students. Also check some other Awesome Essays on different topics “ Essays “

Don’t Have time to read full Article? Download the PDF Here .

Introduction On My Room Essay(50 words):

My room is a place where I feel the most comfortable and openly show my personality to myself. This is the place where I do want I want to do and it is the place where I disembark myself when I come home and wake up every day. My room makes me feel very comfortable in my own space so my house is always crazy as my dog barking and siblings moving around making noise around the house. I care about everyone in my home.

Essay No 1 Short Essay On My Room(300 words):

My lovely room has many different characteristics which I really like to share. It has many pictures around all I have taken with my friends and siblings. I love to make my room decorative and creative with different pictures and showpieces.

Another reason that makes my room very cousin is that I love to dance in it alone because I feel embarrassed in front of people. I feel very confident in my room as I don’t feel it in front of people in other places. I do stupid things in my room so it won’t say anything to me or judge me.

Do Checkout “ My School Essay “

I do new things every week in my room and it makes me more comfortable. I concentrate and think about everything in my room that is going in my life or around me or even in the city or state, even all over the world. I listen to my favorite music in mild volume so no one else gets bothered. I keep the door closed, not locked when playing music in a bit loud volume.

I think I plan my future and I plan my life in my lovely room. I do my homework and often get distracted so I write down my feelings in my diary which opens my mind to more ideas. I have painted my walls with sea theme as it makes me feel more comfortable. Every night I open my windows so I can look around and feel the fresh air. My room is a perfect place to enjoy the school vacations .

There is a shelf where I keep my toys and bag. When I fight with any sibling, I cry and lie on the pillow and when I am happy I jump on my bed so my mother shouts that I stop jumping on the bed. I have a big Spiderman sticker pasted on my door. I have a spider-man robot that was gifted by my mother on my birthday last year. I love my room very much.

Do Checkout “ Short Essay On My School “

Essay No 2 My Room Essay(350 words):

Recently in my room, I was over the repair. The room turned out very beautiful and modern. My style sea room. And I feel it captain of large swimming. The walls in my room are painted in a nice blue color. I also have a 3D drawing on the wall with the sea. The window in my room round shape. With this window, you can imagine that you are in the cabin.

Parquet I have dark – brown in color, and sometimes when I wipe the dust from the floor, it seems to me that I am a young cabin boy on training. The bed on which I sleep has the shape of a ship. In my opinion, this is a very original idea. Closet, located in the room is decorated with a thick rope. The chair has the same decoration. In one corner I am a small anchor that complements the style of the room wraith.

Also, in my room, there is an aquarium with fish and crayfish. This aquarium – my pride. I really like to take care of fish and crayfish and watch as they grow up. Cancerians are very interesting to eat and love to build barricades and hiding in the houses. Therefore, in my aquarium is a house for everyone out there who live crayfish.

Of course, there is a computer on which I often play in my room. So I’m doing with the help of his lessons, read books and watch movies. I also like to communicate in social networks with their classmates and friends, then a computer always helps me.

Parents gave me interesting bed linen. It is also the color of the sea.

After the repair, I am pleased to spend time in my room. This design is like and my friends. All adults too are delighted when they see my room.

Do Checkout: “ My Favourite Game Essay “

I am very grateful to my parents for what they have done me such a repair. I promised them to study well and bring in his diary just good grades. And I promised that my behavior will always be diligent and I will never comment.

Essay No 3 Essay On My Room(450 words):

The room – a small world, my universe, I had created. For my small universe space is important, so in my room, very little furniture. Basic furniture – a table, a sofa, and wardrobe. All the furniture in my room is made of dark wood with gold inserts.

I believe the most important furniture on his desk. On it I have is a computer and small built-in bookshelves. I love to read, so I have a large collection of books. Most astrology books. Wardrobe I have very big. In it, I keep not only my clothes but also other personal belongings.

I love to watch the stars, so my room ceiling has stars. When I turn off the light at night, they shine as the best real stars. Every night I fall asleep under the stars. In addition to the stars on my ceiling, eat the moon. It is large and is lit at night among the stars.

I really like the color blue. Curtains in my favorite color of the room. On the floor, a carpet of green. It is made in the form of grass, with long soft bristles. In the evenings I like to lie down on the carpet and reading a book. I love my room, so it is very cozy and warm. Here I can be alone with their thoughts or in their spare time to do their favorite things.

My first own room came to me when I went to school. My parents allowed me to choose the design most of my room. I love bright colors, so bright wallpaper in the room, with an unobtrusive design. Tulle and curtains, too, I chose bright colors, with a light yellowish.

I have a lot of clothes: dresses, skirts, suits. I asked my parents to buy me a large closet so I could hang clothes in the closet, and it does not need to be ironed. At the bottom of the cabinet has a shelf for shoes. It is very convenient. I can remove the summer or winter shoes here, if it is not needed.

Do Checkout Other Essays By Us: “ My Hobby Essay “

In the middle of the room, I have a large bed. Since I love the romantic style, the main focus of my room, I did the canopy. It is made of a light fabric with gold lines. When I sleep, I feel like a princess. My mom is interested in horticulture. She has a large collection of colors. Recently, I also took up the cultivation of rare flowers. Now in my room for about eight kinds of unusual colors. Beautiful plants fit perfectly into the interior of my room.

She added bright colors and make the room more to believe that my room is the best. When I’m there, I feel comfortable and confident and can distract from problems.

Essay No 4 My Room Essay(450 words):

Room, where I live, I cannot say I entirely owned as the TV set here. Parents come to me to watch TV together. As for the rest – I have a full-fledged master. My bookcase and shelves, desk, sofa, where I sleep, bedside-table, where I keep my game – everything is exactly in this room. And here it is worth a large comfortable chair. If you stay in it with his feet, it can be a long time to read your favorite book.

There in my room a small area where the tape posted on the walls different boxes, beautiful pictures, hang two cards. Tablets I collect for a long time. For example, these: “No smoking”, “Keep quiet,” “Save Energy”. They hung haphazardly. Some of them, I found myself, others gave friends. Mom promises to take them off, but I like it more. On one of the cards – our area.

The British called their own home fortress. And not without reason: after only being at home, one feels peace and tranquility. For me, this is the stronghold of my room, where I spend most of my free time. The room is comfortable because there is only what you need, there is always a procedure, and a large window lets in plenty of suns. Even if someone seems a little room, I have enough space. Near the window is a table in a light-beige tone.

Check out Other Essays “ My Aim In Life Essay “

I am a supporter of order, so the counter top is almost always empty. Is that on the edge may lie a small stack of books and notebook? Tall and narrow bookcase located nearby. There are many instances that started to collect my mother. Among the old, still Soviet, casements clearly distinguished, modern, glossy, that my parents bought for me. At the opposite wall – a place where I sleep: sofa with soft blue upholstery. It does not take much space.

I decompose it at night and in the morning return to its original position. Here it is worth a massive wardrobe. In it – a neat pile of my things, hangers with school and formal attire. I spend a lot of time at home, so I try to get out, to prevent too much not to focus on the right things. I love my room very much.

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I love to travel without leaving home – is the town, the river which names heard, mark the places where ever happen. The room I had a very cozy. In summer there is a feeling of coolness as the sun obstruct branch chestnuts that grow under the window. In winter, the air is well heated by the hot walls of the fireplace. I like my room. And when I’m leaving for a long time, then I miss and see how going back here again.

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How to write a movie title in an essay, job market for gen z college grads is not as bad as it seems… or is it, redditors discuss most and least helpful study techniques, describing my room essay: sample for students.

The door is white, with some scratches at the bottom from my pug scraping it with her claws. My pug scratches the door when she wants to come into my room. The door handle is brown and metal. At the complete bottom of the door is a rubber flap, which I do not know the reason why it is there. The room is about three lengths of my arm span, including the closet.

The floor in my room is wooden, and it creaks when stepped on. However, I do have one white, plush carpet approximately in the middle of the floor. It is rather clean-looking, considering it is white and that it is not washed regularly.

To the left of the door is a leather chair, of which is of no particular use, besides hanging half-used clothes on it. Past the chair is my electronic station, where I charge my phone at night, and charge my shaver during the day. Also, center-left is a rectangular window overlooking our backyard garden and swimming pool. It is a pleasant view for a cold room.

Center-left and far-left is my queen-size bed, with white and grey covers, and white and other colors for the blanket. The blanket in particular has a floral design and is heavy. My pillow has a white case and nothing else to it. The frame of the bed is wooden and beige in color.

Above, to the right of the bed, is a narrow, elongated window, which allows one to view the sky and neighbor’s fence. On the sill, there is a candle lamp, of which I never use. I can often find dead insects on the sill as well, such as flies.

Below that window is my meditation altar to the right, and a small table to the left of the altar, which houses books and random papers. It is barely big enough to hold these books and papers in an organized fashion. My meditation altar is covered in a red cotton cloth and features a picture of my meditation teacher. There is a candle in front of the picture of my teacher.

To the right of the altar is my closet, which contains a rack of sweaters, a suit, scarfs, and belts. There is also a brown, lean dresser, which has the rest of my clothes in it. On the floor, below the rack, there are miscellaneous items, such as an extra blanket, shoes, and hair oil. Right before the closet on the left of it, and before the altar, is my tabla drums, replete with a hammer and a small bottle of talcum powder.

The walls are all white, except the back room, which is covered with a blue, mosaic-patterned cloth. The curtains over the large window are also white and see-through, which almost defeat the purpose of having them. The ceiling is white, but with black blotches above the meditation altar because of candle and incense smoke.

It is one of the coldest rooms in our house, as the windows are quite old and thin, and lack insulation. During autumn and winter, sometimes a heater is brought in to feel comfortable. However, with enough heavy blankets, sleep is manageable.

It is a simple room without much purpose other than sleeping, meditating, and playing percussion. But I am a down-to-earth person, and it matches what I need.

* Note : this is just an example of what a descriptive essay may look like. As a college student, you may need to write much longer assignments of this kind. For that, you can use our essay lengthener tool to help you finish your tasks quicker.

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Barbara Mikkelson. Published Feb. 19, 2002. Claim: Claim: Shortly before he died, a teen named Brian Moore penned the Internet essay now known as "The Room." Status: False. Example: [Collected on ...
English 12 Unit Test Review Flashcards
Read the excerpt from Pat Mora's essay "The Leader in the Mirror." I hoped that most of the students were going to enroll in college. The confetti would be for their private celebrations, those solitary moments when they had passed a test that worried them, finished a difficult paper at 2 A.M., found a summer internship. ... 24 percent in 2 ...
My Room
Our living spaces are a reflection of our personalities, tastes, and comforts. Among the various rooms in my home, my bedroom is my personal sanctuary, a place where I can escape from the demands of the outside world and find peace and solace. In this descriptive essay, I will take you on a tour of my room, sharing the unique elements that make ...
Texas OC Kyle Flood names starting right tackle for 2024
Third-year player Cam Williams will enter camp as Texas' starting right tackle. Author: Cami Griffin. Jul 30, 2024 6:30 PM EDT ... Texas DC Pete Kwiatkowski reveals the leader of the EDGE/DE room.
2024 Alabama Crimson Tide Position Preview: Wide Receivers
The Crimson Tide wide receiver room is full of a lot of talent, but a lot of inexperience as the offense enters the first year in a new system. Alabama Crimson Tide On SI ...
PDF Entering the Classroom
Ask any student who enters the room inappropriately to return to the doorway and reenter appropriately. You do not send the student out of the room but rather to the door. You do not want to send anyone "out of the room" in the very first minute; "out of the room" has a negative, humiliating connotation. Do not make dubious remarks like ...
You had been waiting outside the examination hall. Describe ...
The ringing of the bell that indicates that we should now enter the examination hall, is one of the most alarming noises that a student hears. ... and we can only hope for the best. Very soon, the chaos-filled room turned completely silent, but the chaos in our minds still remained. Was this answer helpful? 77. Similar Questions. Q1. You had ...
Write a story which includes the words, As i entered the room i saw
A sample story that starts with the given prompt is given below:. As I entered the room, I saw what I hated most and that was my family fighting and arguing; this time at the dinner table and I inwardly groaned and then rolled my eyes as if to make the ugly scene disappear.. I sat down at the dinner table in slow motion as my dad, mom and two sisters were arguing and shouting at the top of ...
When The Doctor Entered The Room I Asked
When the doctor entered the room I asked, "What happened to the driver? Did they live?" "I'm sorry but we can't disclose that information with you. However Mrs. Church, we were able to determine that you have suffered a severe spinal cord injury," the doctor clasped his hands in front of him. "A spinal cord injury wha- what do you ...
Why You Forget What You Came for When You Enter a Room
Forgetting why you entered a room is called the "Doorway Effect", and it may reveal as much about the strengths of human memory, as it does the weaknesses, says psychologist Tom Stafford. We've all done it. Run upstairs to get your keys, but forget that it is them you're looking for once you get to the bedroom. Open the fridge door and ...
Free Essays on As I Entered The Room I Saw What I Hated The Most
The Most Memorable Day of My Life. The most memorable day of my life was, September 4, 1995 in Chicago, IL. It was 6:00 a.m. when my alarm clock woke me up. The first day of high school was finally here. I was excited, but a lot more nervous. I got out of bed, got ready, and then was on my way to the bus stop.
4 Long and Short My Room Essay in English For Students and Kids
Essay No 3 Essay On My Room (450 words): The room - a small world, my universe, I had created. For my small universe space is important, so in my room, very little furniture. Basic furniture - a table, a sofa, and wardrobe. All the furniture in my room is made of dark wood with gold inserts.
Descriptive Essay About My Room
Describing My Room Essay: Sample for Students. 🔥 published November 17, 2017 - updated March 5, 2024. by Admin. 3min read0 comments. The door is white, with some scratches at the bottom from my pug scraping it with her claws. My pug scratches the door when she wants to come into my room. The door handle is brown and metal.

Why you forget what you came for when you enter the room

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Teen named Brian Moore pens the Internet essay known as 'The Room'?

By Barbara Mikkelson

My Room - a Personal Sanctuary

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Write a story which includes the words, As i entered the room i saw. What i hated most (350-400)