Phillip Hudson And James Wardrop, Melbourne's Shrine Of Remembrance

4. What “fearful sites” does the narrator visit? Stone steps of First Academy building and tree by river

“Forgotten Dead” by authors William D. Carrigan and Clive Webb, delivered a collective narration of the numerous lynching crimes against Mexican people in the southern west states of the United States. Their purpose was to describe that extend of mob violations against the minority groups of people in the United States. By, arguing how many of these racial crimes were prejudice to eliminate the potential competition for territory, and gold mines’ economy that were potentially able to provide the envy position that Anglo people were afraid to loose. They wanted to figure out, who these forgotten dead Mexicans were at the time, and what types of “crimes” they committed to face such cruelty death in the hands of the mob Anglo groups. They uncovered the grand extend of violent scenes that Anglo vigilantes members of mob groups organized the banishment of many Mexican in what they had considered part of their territory at the time.

In every culture, respect is a quality that communities embrace around the world. Whether it be to remember a person’s achievement or to provide a sense of connection in a community, monuments link together the present and the past with the motive of respect. Memorials are far more relevant than a seemingly trivial granite monument that one could notice in a park (Source B); they embellish meaning, symbol, emotion, and memories into a collective emblem. In memorializing an event and creating a monument, it is essential for the group or agency to not only consider the basic elements such as the historical significance or size, location, and materials but also to acknowledge the emotional linkage the event or monument may induce through attachment

As I exited the metro bus and stepped into the cold, wet, and way-too-early Saturday morning air, my mind pounded with the self-scolding, “Why am I awake. Why am I awake?”. The second I looked up at the grey-blue sky, however, all dread evaporated. Instead, the gorgeous sight ahead filled me with an incredulous awe. The Washington National Cathedral stood towering in cream-colored splendor, its richly detailed Gothic architecture almost too picturesque to fathom. Intricate spires stood proudly against the low-hanging clouds, as if taunting them to rain. Stunned, I began to follow my friends along a blue stone path surrounded by vivid greenery. As I walked, the chill air invigorated my lungs with each breath, filling me with a sort of peaceful energy. The path led to a smaller, yet still grandiose building which we entered through two large glass doors.

The setting is very tranquil and serene; it is also very welcoming and very tempting, how so?

There are no marble arches and no lighthouses. The river has dried up with the memory of the empire and the bones of a dead leader have long since turned to dust. Colossal galleons and crowds to greet victorious soldiers are no longer even a memory in the minds of those alive today, simply words on paper in books gathering dust in the darkest corner of a room. There is no-one to remember the beauty of the vast city; no-one to describe the sight of the lighthouses and no-one to recall the crisp aroma of the once majestic river. All that remains are the few paintings and statues that did not dissolve with time. The dust of the bones of men, women and children long since dead has faded from existence. There is no-one left to remember the man selling wares in the street or the woman grieving over the soldier she loved. Nobody holds the memory of the child playing in the park or the servant bringing a pitcher of water to his master. The meaning behind the statue has faded from everyone’s mind. The man, whose wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command secured his victory in every battle he fought, has dissolved into nothing more than a story in a book.

Like the other building’s metal gate, it served it literal purpose of protection, but also its metaphorical of an atheistic painting. Balmy Alley, a tourist attraction for many displays all different types and kinds of murals with bright colors creating their artistic designs. This building’s mural has different shades of pink, purple, and white that appeal more to the eye. It geometric pattern gave it more of a chic look, but in all truthfulness, the mural was meaningless. Like the other murals the color pattern was quite bright and gave the building that liveliness in color that made it pop, but there was no clear message to what it was trying to portray. Their wood, if it is wood, was in blue not in different shades of brown. The stairs don’t look like if they are going to give out at any minute. When you look at them it does make me wonder what lead to these two buildings to meet each other face to

It looked like the sun had given up on trying to break through the iron curtain of clouds that it decided to lounge behind them. As we nervously walked towards the battle of our lives, the castle silhouetted behind us like someone faintly saying goodbye. The narrow barren streets were scattered with muculent mud and broken decomposed parts of the castle lay beside it reminding us that danger was slowly approaching. The street was a skeleton, stripped of its flesh. All that remains was the broken parts of the concrete structure. Quiet and derelict. The street was a river of the rusted burnt charcoal like concrete parts of the castle. Perhaps years back this street was immersed in pools of yellow light from the assaulted street lamps. Walking past the street lamps made the scent of burnt smoke go inside me like a barren soul. The street lamps were concealing us and we were inferior to the street lamps. The street lamps were covering us with darkness reminding us of the danger ahead of

The entryways of the building come from four different sides and meet in the middle. The overall shape of the building creates different views and facades. The building was not created just on the looks of it; it is made up of a three dimensional, stimulating, tactile human thing.

In the doorway, a petite, hairless dog laid either asleep or dead. Upon entering, an employee asked us to tie a colorful silk wrap around our waists to cover our legs out of reverence. We complied and entered the cathedral. The ceilings were lofty, and the altar was composed of marble trimmed in gold and ornamented with statues of saints and paintings of cherubs. As I was taking it all in, Jose hurried us out. Once again, we marched the streets of Havana in the sweltering heat. The sweat beaded on my forehead as we hiked, for what seemed to be miles, to a cigar bar in the heart of Havana’s historic district.

And just as Gutzon set out to build a great feat, so will this paper and its interpretation and story-telling of the past. The history behind this monument, the artistry that is and was displayed, and the basic skills of location, environment, and factors that influence geography will also be discussed here. This work by Gutzon was not just mere sensationalism or commercialism, as has normally been the angle of reporters, but instead this will take on the historic aspect as it was originally intended to bring out.

“Are we there yet?” [Y/N] said, sounding a bit bored. She looks out of the window, seeing cars speeding by on the highway. [Y/N] has this hate and love relationship when going to Bungotakada. What she loved about it was going to the Kumano Magaibutsu, a place where there are multiple hiking trails with small beautiful hidden areas and admirable relief sculptures from the late Heian and early Kamakura period. Another thing she loved was visiting the Choanji Temple. A place other than Kumano, to experience and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere in the secluded temple. It’s where people pray for good things, but [Y/N] wasn’t much of a prayer. She liked the 500 Arhat statue, conveying various facial expressions surrounding the temple and forest ground. It was very delightful to see each and every one of them, since it always give [Y/N] the giggles.

The Mexican tile roofs jump out at your eyes, until the gorgeous iron gates of other estates snatch your attention. I can at times be overwhelmed with the feast before my eyes. My favorite structure by far is the towering ruins of the old sugar plantation. The words ruins, sugar, and plantation alone are enough to conjure up the most fascinating stories within ones imagination. I can see the bones of an age past; still standing before me to mourn, and dream about. I live in a grouping of villas where a restaurant and pool facilities are being constructed. I smell fresh sawn mahogany as the carpenters make bars, counters, and doors. I hear stone masons chipping at tiles, and the scraping sounds as they pull out the mortar to lay them.

When I first arrived at the park, it was in the evening time and the air had a nice breeze going that sides chills up and down your body, but not enough to put a jacket on. The breeze rustled the leaves on the tree. The sun was going down very slowly, but the rays of the sun danced on my skin. It smelled of freshly cut grass, because the city lawn maintenance people just finished doing the yard work. I found my way to a table in the shade where I could observe my surroundings. Once you drown out the sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze, the sound of children playing hit your ears. On the other side of the park, several children were laughing and playing on the playground. There were children swinging on the swing talking and laughing with each other. Next to the swing at the bottom of a jungle gym a mother waits for her child to slide to the bottom. Watching the children laugh and playing made me fill relaxed. At the money bars a dad helping his daughter get across to the end. I was instantly reminded a time when I was that small and I wanted to be a big kid and go across the monkey bars, but I fell.

In many places throughout the world many buildings, monuments and sculptures have been made. Some were made centuries ago, and some were made recently. Many works of arts are significant or a great part of history. Some of the many buildings that have been made throughout time could have also been dedicated to someone or something. For example, the Arch of Titus was dedicated to Titus. Another example would be the Arc de Triomphe which was dedicated to soldiers. Many buildings can have a very significant meaning behind them, in the following essay I will be speaking about the importance of both of these works of art, which are the Arch of Titus and the Arc de Triomphe.