This set piece is from my attempt to mimic Raymond Carver. For context, my mom told me to stop the TV, and as I asked for a bit more, she would go on about today’s teens being spoiled. Therefore we get into a small argument, resulting in me asking her a question about her past. Going back in time in her memory, she would remember and tell small parts of her life. To sum it up, my mom’s past is the story inside the present day of our conversation. Here, I try to convey imagery, you may find a lot of descriptions about the setting from my mom's point of view as she tells me about her childhood. As she starts off the story in this set piece, she would describe how it was when she woke up, like the start of her casual school day. I later interrupted as I didn't believe what she said before. After that, she begins to deeply describe her walk to school, how life was when she was child, out and walking on the roads.. During the paragraph of her walking to school, I attempt to portray imagery to help the audience visualize her surroundings. What I like about this is how it can be conveyed through many different literary devices.

Every morning, she would wake up early in the morning, she said. She would brush her teeth, put on her uniform, and go to the dining room to have her breakfast. It was always some sort of traditional breakfast, she said. She would take a look outside through the window, looking at the ash gray sky, filled with pollution, deciding whether or not to put on a coat. She would sit down, eat up her food, and start packing her things. Her dad would come, and tell her to go buy something from the grocery store. It was usually milk that she had to get, she said. 

I don’t believe you, I said. Go ahead and ask your grandfather, she said. She seemed pretty annoyed that I interrupted her. I always thought about doing that, but it seemed kind of useless, as I always predicted that it would stir up some argument. Alright, continue, I said

She would take a walk to the store. It wasn’t too far, maybe half a mile or so. She walked amongst the smoky clouds and the roaring noises of the vehicles. It was almost two miles away, she said. She would use some sort of scooter, kind of like a motorcycle, to go with her brother who had a bike. She would pass by old shops, once in a while grabbing a treat, the rusty old garages. She would cross the road a couple of times, as a mom would be waiting on her scooter, with her children holding her tight around the waist, waiting for them to cross. She said it felt like days, just to get to her school, as so many cars and scooters were passing by. It was a long trip, with many curves. She would greet the fellow citizens she knew here and there. 

She would reach her school, learn in class, and play with her friends on the old blacktop. Everyday, she said, wasn’t half as easy.