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Power of the nature
Force of nature is a striking power that is both delightful and impressive. It incorporates the immeasurability of the seas, the grandness of mountains, the peacefulness of woodlands, and the unpredictability of biological systems. Nature holds inside it a power that is outside human ability to understand. A power can make, support, and obliterate. The force of nature is a sign of our position on the planet and the significance of regarding and safeguarding the sensitive equilibrium of the normal world.
Kayla walkerPublished 5 months ago in EarthA World Uninhabited
In the ethereal realm of imagination, let us embark on a journey to a world where the echo of human existence has never reverberated. A tale unfolds, painting the canvas of Earth untouched, unshaped, and unaltered by the hands of mankind since the dawn of time.
How Tyre Recycling Stations Efficiently Dispose of Scrap Tyres: Pyrolysis
In the labyrinth of waste management, the challenge of efficiently disposing of scrap tires looms large. Enter the innovative domain of tyre pyrolysis plants, where the alchemy of heat and chemistry transforms discarded tires into valuable resources. This sophisticated process not only tackles the environmental menace posed by scrap tires but also unveils a sustainable avenue for harnessing their latent energy.
Wayne ShenPublished 5 months ago in Earththe new world
The New World The year is 2050. Climate change has ravaged the planet, and sea levels have risen dramatically. Many coastal cities have been abandoned, and millions of people have been displaced.
Deadly teenage friendship
Juliet Hulme and Pauline Parker Youth is a time when passion can run dangerously wild. The desires and fantasies of a person, especially a young person can take on an obsessional nature. Christchurch New Zealand, fifteen-year-old Juliet Hulme writes feverishly to her best friend across town. Pauline Parker, 16, desperately awaits her letter. These young girls are caught in a fatal obsession. This was a brutal murder. She didn't want her mother around. She hated her. It's the early 1950s, Juliet Hulme is overjoyed to see her closest friend, Pauline Parker. She found in Pauline, an intensely close friend and they did form a very close friendship. Almost straightaway she said to her mother, mother I have found someone who has got just as strong a will as I have. That's the start, the pair share a passion for art and literature, both ghosts were very lively. Julian in particular, very herbaceous. I think, in combination they were able to devise a make-believe world, a wonderful creative outlet for all of their talents and energies. They would pretend to be figures from medieval fantasy worlds and historical figures. It appears that in Juliet's case she had an excessive and extreme fantasy life and appear to be bad at assessing when to stop. So, that leads me to believe that her fantasy life did a whole lot more for her than reality did.
Lesedi MolutsiPublished 5 months ago in CriminalBirds Whisper.
A fresh start was all Thomas needed. A new beginning from the chaos that disturbed his peace. Moving to this new city just might be what he needs, moving to this new house just might be what he needs. Everything he left behind is in the past, it's a new painting now, a new start.
From Mud and Shellfire: A Memoir of Trench Warfare
I'm informed that this specific district of France was once exceptionally lovely. Rich, green woods as should have been obvious, and where Europe's lessening natural life could track down shelter. I press my eyes shut and attempt to envision it-cool wind stirring through the leaves, wild deer sluggishly eating in patches of open glade. "Wake the damnation up, trooper!" I get snapped back to reality by a discourteous push from my squad leader. I surmise I was envisioning my lavish green timberland excessively hard and floated off. Honestly, I’m extremely tired, to such an extent that in any event, blinking is enticement for a rest. In any case, I can't rest now since it's nearly time to go over the top. What used to be a thick woodland is currently an infertile hellscape of cavities and a periodic broke tree stump. I'm tremendously intrigued by exactly the way that intensive the obliteration has been. Like a barbed scar running for many miles across Europe, close quarters conflict has decreased the territory to a cursed dead zone. Heaps of big guns bombardments have destroyed the scene and transformed it into a sloppy mess. There isn't so much as a touch of grass left. The annihilation really is... outright. "Boots and rifles!"
Vincent TengwanaPublished 5 months ago in HistoryRags to Riches
Every time I think my life couldn’t possibly be any better, POOF! WHAM! KAPOW! It becomes more heavenly. It didn’t start that way, not by a long shot. I was born into a dirt-poor family, the middle child of seven brothers and sisters. We usually had at least one meal a day during the summer and three when school was in session. All my clothes, from underwear to shoes, were hand-me-downs from my older siblings. My parents possessed no special skills, so they earned a living as day laborers. It looked like life had dealt me a losing hand from the start.
Mark GagnonPublished 5 months ago in Criminal