Once, I went to a pier with my family. It was July, the summer heat soaking our shirts and the moisture in the air fogging up my glasses. The sky was blue and the air was hot. Seagulls circled above us and sat together in straight lines at the edges of the pier. Adults and children alike ran around the area, scaring the birds away as they ran towards the birds and tried to feed them. The seagulls, with their wingspan of around 150 centimeters, flew close to us, the breeze from them passing slapping us hard on our faces. Bird droppings rained down from the sky, somehow, yet thankfully, missing me. The seagulls scooped up the crumbs with their yellow-orange beaks squawked at each other aggressively as they argued for food that fell onto the ground from the shaky hands of the children. These seagulls had white-feathered bodies, their tails layered like a paper fan. The edges of their wings were streaked and painted with black strokes, layered with patterned white spots splashed onto the darkness of the feathers. Their legs, as bumpy as twigs, wobbled as they teetered towards us. Beady eyes stared at me suspiciously as I pointed my camera at them, the clicks and snaps of the shutter taking in the scene before me.
Putting my camera down, I watched as others around me fed these greedy creatures. Interestingly enough, many fed them little sticks of shrimp chips, the pink chips brightly colored like acrylic. Those brave enough to face the swarm of hungry seagulls stood closer to the edge of the pier, stuck out their hands and positioned their fingers to the sky. Moments passed, a gathering storm of seagulls circled around their target: the shrimp chip that the poor person so tightly clutched between their fingers, quivering by itself as it prepared for the attack. A seagull swooped down, and with laser sharp accuracy, separated the chip from the fingers that held it safe.
My family, upon seeing this exchange between the birds and the humans, decided that it would be fun to try it themselves. One by one, each of my family members stepped forward, raised their hands, and fed the seagulls without any hesitation or fear. The seagulls loved it. They pounced forwards, their wings flapping furiously as they competed for the chip. Then finally, my turn. It was happening, there was no stopping it now. Gingerly, I took one of the chips, held on to it tightly with my fingers, and stepped into the danger zone, where I was to be robbed by the mob of seagulls. Inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, millimeter by millimeter, I raised my hand. The seagulls bided their time, calculating the exact moment they would attack. Finally, one by one, they each flew high into the sky, then came back down towards me. Circling once, circling twice, circling thrice. The squawks of the seagulls rang louder and louder in my ears. A single seagull started to fly lower, the others flew back onto the ground. The bird dove down, missing the chip the first time. Again, it circled around me once more. Coming closer to me, it dipped its sharp beak lower. It missed again. The seagull circled around me one more time. This time, it finally plucked the chip out of my hand, its body barely missing my hand by mere centimeters.
Content with finally snatching away his snack, the seagull once again joined its companions on the ground. It held the chip tightly in its beak. In a smooth motion, the seagull threw its head back, opened its smooth beak, and swallowed the chip whole. Its head shook to get the crumbs off its face and it stumbled around, full as a kid after Thanksgiving dinner.
Children continued to run around, scaring the birds away. The seagull, still full from its snack, seemed to respond later than others. Finally, it ran away as I stood there watching, the unlikely friend I had made leaving me so soon. It hobbled over towards the edge of the pier, and, using the ground as a runway, lifted itself off the asphalt and launched into the air. Its wings spread wide as the seagull flapped, flapped, flapped its wings and flew higher into the sky. I turned around, taking my eyes off it as it disappeared far away, meters away, kilometers away. The seagull is still flying, flying through the blue skies, flying through the blue sky with its black-streaked wings, forever.
Link to Rough Draft: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1R4goS04KwftCk1R1Fwdlw14ifv_0iWVdXn2OHXYJa7o/edit?usp=sharing
Reflection: This descriptive essay was definitely one of the most challenging ones I had to write in this semester. It was hard to incorporate such a vast amount of detail and imagery to a story, as I don’t usually go around describing everything like we had to in this descriptive essay. Even brainstorming for something to describe vividly was quite challenging at first, and I had played around with using different ideas for this assignment, but ultimately I feel as though I was able to really try my best and I’m happy with the essay that I ended up with here.
Po Yin's Blog 
I really enjoyed reading this piece!! It is a well-written, very descriptive article. You deploy a variety of senses to enrich the texture of the writing. I felt like this has made my memory come alive to me too! I appreciate the parallel syntax that you used in the ending, it sublimates the writing to another level and also makes the whole piece end beautifully.
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