Steinbeck Descriptive Article
Hermann Park is in Central Houston, Texas. It is large wide swale between a handful of large buildings, and the freeway which twists and turns until it passes over the horizon. I remember coming here when I was younger. I remember where the ducks live and how the mosquitoes would swarm around right before sunset. I remember most what they smelled like, the people, and the plants. The memory of these sights and smells is always intense.
I remember the museums to the left of the park that were made of light gray mountains of stone and wonder and a kind of invitation, so that you wanted to charge into its entrance almost as you want to go to a cool river after being lost in a desert. It was a beckoning building covered in posters of its main attractions. The Miller Theater stood up against the sky to the East and protected its audiences when it poured down rain, it was dark and imposing. I always found myself dreading that place and in awe of the museum.
All these wonderful places could have easily been nothing. This entire plot of land could be dirt right now. However, someone somewhere a long time ago made the choice to establish a town in this spot and that lead to the creation of all this majestic beauty. One simple choice has been able to ripple out and has affected more lives than the person could even imagine. So in closing, there is no such thing as a minor choice. Everything thing that a person does affects someone else in one way or another.