Tuesday, 15 May 2018

Graffiti Or Art

Writing or drawings scribbled, scratched, or sprayed illicitly on a wall or other surface in a public place. (Oxford Dictionary).

The expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power. (Oxford Dictionary)

Graffiti and art are very similar in many ways. They may seem different but actually graffiti is just street art. The only difference I personally could think of is that graffiti is a lot of the time is depicted as being done with spray cans. Art on the other hand is depicted as having somebody with paint and a paintbrush painting a framed picture. Is graffiti art or vandalism? It’s art, no doubt, but only if you have consent to do it where you are going to.
Image result for graffiti (Via mindhacks.com)

Wednesday, 6 December 2017

Summer Learning Journey

I have registered for the Summer Learning Journey

Tuesday, 28 November 2017

Narrative Writing

“No German” August 3rd, 1941 Vladivostok, Russia Dimitri was a skinny and scrawny 14-year-old boy when Nazi Germany invaded his homeland of Russia in what would be known as Operation Barbarossa. He remembers every event of the day he left his house. The biting winds, the cold climate, yelling at his father they needed to get away as the Germans closed in on his home. He knew how to drive should he have to leave his family behind. “Просто второй Владимир!” Dimitri looked anxiously over his shoulder to the secret hatch that they had that would put them out the back of their house and into their car, then back to his mother and younger brother. His rough black hair lazily fell over his head. He could hear them now. The chatter of the tank treads, the distinct deep German voices. Now he worried about them. “Papa they are coming!” “Да son I know, take your mother and your brother and get out of here!” “But pap-” “Go now, son!” His brother and mother ran for the door but as soon as they opened it they was sprayed down by German fire. “Out the hatch Dimitri! Go yourself. I will keep them here for as long as I can!” Dimitri made for the hatch, once through it, he got in the car and turned the key. The engine struggled due to the harsh Russian climate, but eventually, he was able to get it going. He heard his father’s rifle fire as he drove away. Followed by an explosion that could only have been made by a tank. Dimitri forcefully pushed his foot down on the accelerator and never looked back. As he drove he thought of his father, his brother, his mother and the life he had just been forced to leave behind. Now he was 15 and turning 16 on November 17th. After escaping to a nearby city he was able to find a train that could take him to Moscow. Once he was in Moscow he made towards the nearest enrolment office. He knew it would take some effort to lie his way in, but he knew he wanted to fight like his father had in World War 1. He had sworn vengeance for his dead family members. Despite it taking multiple minutes just to persuade the enrolment officer that he was of age he was able to convince the officer to let him into the army. Dimitri had never felt such a sense of pride in his life. September 29th, 1942 Stalingrad, Russia By now Dimitri had completed his training and had experienced the heat of warfare. Among the dead of his friends in a courtyard - but not one of them. Those who were alive and moved were shot dead by Germans on the spot. He lay as still as an inanimate object, making sure his liveliness was undetectable. The Germans left the courtyard. By now he knew he was going to leave as well, but he had to make sure the coast was clear first. Dimitri looked around a corner, only to see nothing. He knew it would be the perfect time for him to leave. Dimitri was about to leave the courtyard when he heard a voice. He knew exactly who it was. “Forgetting somebody Dimitri?” “You are brave to go alone Dimitri, but it is best to fight with a comrade alongside you.” it was his sergeant, Sergeant Lobachev. Dimitri and the other men in his squad had only ever known his last name because they had to refer to him as Sergeant Lobachev. “Not forgetting, only I did not realize you were alive. I thought you were one of them,” he said glaring half sad at the dead bodies of his comrades. “I was one of them, but only before they died.” “We must move. How hurt are you?” “Not very, just a shot to the shoulder Dimitri. We must carry on forwards and get back to base.” “Yes Sergeant.” Dimitri had learned his way in and out of the city like the back of his hand. He knew all the buildings. However, after going through a few buildings, they heard a rattling sound. It was difficult to hear due to the noise that was being blasted by Germans as propaganda. They stopped next to the door of the room. With a single nod from his, Sergeant Dimitri twisted the doorknob and kicked the door open. He was ready to shoot, but instead of finding a German, he was confronted by something else, another Russian. “Name and rank soldier!” Dimitri’s Sergeant barked at the soldier. “Chernobyl Georgiy, Private sir!” the soldier said, startled yet still comfortable because these were his allies. “Where is your squad soldier?” “Murdered, I only got away because I was searching this building, I was able to slip into this house. Why are you two not with your squad?” “Those good men were murdered in the courtyard, If they survived it at first they were murdered after. We survived by playing dead among them.” Dimitri replied sorrowfully. “We must move through the apartments.” his Sergeant said, rushed after hearing the Germans. “I agree, let’s move!” his sergeant said beginning to run quickly in the direction of their base. However, when moving between apartments they ran directly into a building filled with Germans. “We’re spotted, move faster!” angrily bellowed Sergeant Lobachev. When moving through the streets the Germans began firing through the windows of the building. One bullet nearly made contact with his head. He could also hear others behind them. “Keep running!” yelled his Sergeant. Despite being at the front of the three Georgiy stopped where he was. “Keep going forward, I will delay them.” “No. come with us.” “Нет, they will only keep coming for us. Go hide in that building, I will surprise them from the other side of the street, go now.” Dimitri and his Sergeant moved into the building. A few seconds later he heard the shots of a PPSH. Only it was followed by an MP40 shot. Once the MP40 stopped, he knew his comrade was dead. “We should move through the buildings Dimitri, it is most safe” “I agree,” he replied, beginning to move with his Sergeant. However once moving through the building they were spotted. “Run Dimitri! Run!” They swiftly began running through the building. They ran up the stairs. His heart skipped a beat once he heard tank treads. Then the noise stopped. The tanks were taking aim now. “This is it.” he thought. “This is where it ends.” He stopped and stood where he was, accepting what was about to happen. A few seconds later he heard the noise. BOOM! He stood there, bamboozled about why he was still breathing, He risked a peek out the window, only to see it wasn’t a German tank, those were Russian tanks. “We’re saved!” he yelled, “The Russian is here!” However, that was not the end. There were Germans inside the building. He only just heard them because of the floorboards creaking under their footsteps. Dimitri could just hear their hate-filled whispers. Quickly he pulled out a grenade and readied himself as he armed it 1… 2… 3… 4... he threw it down the stairs. BANG! Dimitri ran down the stairs preparing to shoot. However, he found nothing alive worth shooting. All the Germans were dead. He was about to relax when he saw the door swung open. He got ready to fire, but he was only met by fellow Russians. “Hold your fire! We are on your side!” his allies yelled Dimitri, worrying he would be shot by his allies. “Да, I thought you were Germans,” he said lowering his weapon. He watched as they looked towards the floor. “You low on ammo now?” “Нет, one grenade is all it took.” “Very well done, you truly are a Russian!” said one of the Privates whilst patting him on the back. “So long as Soviet Russia is fighting, the Germans shall never succeed in their goal,” replied Dimitri “Were you with anybody else?” “Нет, just us there…” he nearly said us three but stopped himself, “us two, just us two.” “You three shall be taken back to base camp.” “Да, we signed up as soldiers to join the fight, we will do exactly that so long as we breathe.” “Good, now there is a truck outside heading back, that will serve as your transport.” “Спасибо, мой друг.” Dimitri returned back to the nearby Russian barracks and shared his story with other Russian soldiers. They may not have been through what he had, but he knew they-they were still soldiers. Future liberators, but for now they were defenders. They were defending their homes, their country, their world. It would have to be them defending Russia and liberating the Eastern Europe’s countries. Throughout the Second World War soldiers like Dimitri would die in the heat of a battle. Fighting for what or who they thought was right. Many stories would be shared throughout the war. They could range from Big Foot from North American countries, the 300 Spartans in Thermopylae from the Greeks, even the story of the Manaia from New Zealand. After the battle of Stalingrad ended, Dimitri would fight most of the following battles in the Soviet Union’s campaign of liberating Eastern Europe. Including the Battle Of Kiev (1943) and the Minsk Offensive (1944). However, his last battle was the Battle Of Berlin (1945). During the final offensive, a German wielding a Panzerschreck fired a rocket that would knock down a pillar of the Reichstag, the final German Stronghold. It fell down and crushed Dimitri, killing him instantly and painlessly. By Josh Glossary Спасибо мой друг - Thank you, my friend Да - Yes Нет - No Просто второй Владимир! - Just a second Vladimir!

Monday, 27 November 2017

Tuesday, 21 November 2017