Descriptive Writing
DESCRIPTIVE WRITING
| A scene at a concert |
- A n i s h a S r i k a r
I was starting to realise that concerts and I were a very bad combination. I had agreed to come here in hopes of actually enjoying it. Except, I was experiencing the exact opposite.
While everyone else seemed to enjoy and move their bodies to the the deafeningly loud noise called music, I couldn’t help but cringe at the horrible melody bellowing from the speakers. The band playing tonight was some sort of metal rock band. They clearly did not understand music. Squinting my eyes to look at the band members on the stage, my eyes were almost blinded by the intense lighting. The lights screamed and shone primarily on the band members, making me wonder how they didn’t flinch away from it. When I actually got a glimpse at the members, I was repelled by their horrible choice of clothing. Nearly all of them wore black or brown t-shirts with leather pants and it was ripped in places I would never want to describe. Moreover, nearly all of them had styled their hair into mohawks or spikes — a hairstyle which I was now coming to despise.
I couldn’t even begin to describe their music. The singing was almost entirely clouded over by the loud beating of the drums and the guitar strums. This act was totally incomprehensible to me. To me, it even ceased to be music. It was just a bunch of screaming, bellowing, banging and harsh beating. It was as if the poor instruments were being abused instead of being played. To say it was overwhelming would be an understatement.
I couldn’t say the same about the crowd though. If anything, they seemed to love it even more when the singer screamed in this severely confining space. Everyone except me were decked in the same attire as the band, each one more provocative than the other. Each time I looked around, I had to avert my eyes due to their choice of clothing or better, lack of it. I felt quite overdressed in a simple jeans, t-shirt and jacket. The harsh wind
| A scene at a concert |
- A n i s h a S r i k a r
I was starting to realise that concerts and I were a very bad combination. I had agreed to come here in hopes of actually enjoying it. Except, I was experiencing the exact opposite.
While everyone else seemed to enjoy and move their bodies to the the deafeningly loud noise called music, I couldn’t help but cringe at the horrible melody bellowing from the speakers. The band playing tonight was some sort of metal rock band. They clearly did not understand music. Squinting my eyes to look at the band members on the stage, my eyes were almost blinded by the intense lighting. The lights screamed and shone primarily on the band members, making me wonder how they didn’t flinch away from it. When I actually got a glimpse at the members, I was repelled by their horrible choice of clothing. Nearly all of them wore black or brown t-shirts with leather pants and it was ripped in places I would never want to describe. Moreover, nearly all of them had styled their hair into mohawks or spikes — a hairstyle which I was now coming to despise.
I couldn’t even begin to describe their music. The singing was almost entirely clouded over by the loud beating of the drums and the guitar strums. This act was totally incomprehensible to me. To me, it even ceased to be music. It was just a bunch of screaming, bellowing, banging and harsh beating. It was as if the poor instruments were being abused instead of being played. To say it was overwhelming would be an understatement.
I couldn’t say the same about the crowd though. If anything, they seemed to love it even more when the singer screamed in this severely confining space. Everyone except me were decked in the same attire as the band, each one more provocative than the other. Each time I looked around, I had to avert my eyes due to their choice of clothing or better, lack of it. I felt quite overdressed in a simple jeans, t-shirt and jacket. The harsh wind