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A Thousand Acres Analysis

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A gust of damp, hot air greeted my skin when I entered the room. The fan, in its futile effort to cool the sweltering room, accomplished no purpose other than rustling the shrew pages of “Moroccan National News” and causing the bed linen to shiver. I flung open to the first chapter of my summer reading novel, A Thousand Acres. As I half-heartedly scanned the pages, my gaze drifted over to the servant girl working in the room. Beads of perspiration dipped unnoticed down her temples and the scarf over her head clung wearily to her neck, only adding to the feeling of being suffocated by the humid heat. The warmth did not seem to affect me as much as it did her, but then, I lounged beneath a ceiling fan. She crouched low on the floor with a hand-made broom of pine needles bound together by a copper cord. Her expression appeared stoic and her movement robotic. For an instance her eyes rose to meet mine, and I …show more content…

She and I shared the same thick, black hair, dark eyes, olive complexion. Full lips and even the slight dimples on our right cheeks matched. But there were unavoidable differences. We both wore a shelver and kamis, the typical garb of a Moroccan Muslim, but my attire was new and freshly laundered, while hers was a shabby, threadbare hand-me-down. I reclined on a plush sofa in my grandfather’s home in Morocco, lolling in the relaxation and luxury of what I considered weep-deserved summer vacation from a rigorous academic schedule. Meanwhile, this young girl barely sixteen, labored as a maid in my grandfather’s house, a coveted and lucrative occupation for a girl from an impoverished village. It struck me, she and I shared identical smiles nationalities and faiths, yet she stood on the outside, longingly watching me seize the endless stream of opportunities that came my way. Sheer circumstance separated this girl from

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