important

The extra-marbled grandparents for Margot have just been activated, and she assures me that whatever belongs to you is mine because, after all, we are not the same as sisters rather than friends. Do not make me live in a mall just so you can pay half the rent, "she said jokingly but seriously. Money is something that Margot does not even think about, nor does he want to think about. So I learned how to control my pride and ignore the feeling of being hot whenever I had to borrow her. I tell myself that in this story the feeling of guilt is an excess, and that one day I could pay you back, if not money, it would be somehow different. In the first summer of summer in New York City, I added salt to my profile and put it in any job position I found. I received a lot of calls, but all of them were all promising interviews, because I was an empty hand. So finally I got a job at L'Express, a coffee shop on South Park Avenue that used to be like a Lyon bouchon. The long hours of work - I used to work late at night - and my legs were always painful, but not everything was bad. I made a surprising amount of money (more booze late at night), met many interesting people and learned everything I ever wanted to know about pork cheeses During my spare time, I usually go for a photo shoot, which is initially a hobby, a daytime recreation and to learn more about the city. I wandered around many neighborhoods - East Village, Alphabet City, Soho, Chinatown, Tribeca - while taking pictures with the 35mm lens my dad and Sharon bought for graduation. But soon, taking pictures became very meaningful to me. It becomes something I do not just love but really need to do, just as the writers talk about whether they are necessarily writing on the paper, or who are always running jogging. morning. Photographs made me happy, made me fill my purpose as I was actually at the time of lack of orientation and loneliness. I began to miss my mother more than in college, and for the first time in my life, I really wanted to have a romantic love. Except for a moment of sudden confusion and sneaky with Matt Iannotti in the tenth grade, I've never been particularly interested in a son. Sometimes I have a date with some guys and have had sex with two college friends, seriously, not seriously, but never approaching love. Nor did I ever say or write the word to anyone other than my family and Margot, at times when we both drank. Everything was fine with me until my first year in New York. I'm not sure what's changed in my mind, but maybe that's what I was really a grown-up person, and as Margot says, is surrounded by millions of people who seem to have all but Clear dreams and someone to love. So I dedicate my whole mind to photography. I spend every penny I can to buy a movie and spend all my free time taking pictures or getting bogged down in books in the library or bookstore. I devoured both the photographic reference books and the collections of famous photographers. My favorite book - Margot bought me on my twenty-third birthday - is Robert Taylor's The Americans, featuring a series of photographs of him taken in the 1950s as he traveled around the country. I was fascinated by his black and white photos, each containing a story in it. I felt as if I had known the muscular man leaning on the gramophone, the elegant lady looking over her shoulder in the elevator, and the black nanny petting for the white baby crying I realize that overcoming everything, feeling totally convinced that I know the characters in the picture in the viewer is the crux of a great work. If I take pictures like that, I think I can still feel full, even without a boyfriend. In my mind, I did not know what to do next, but it was Margot himself. Out of the obvious - one of the things that are actually friends are born to help each other like that. That day she had just returned home from her business trip to Los Angeles, threw the suitcase down, stopped at the kitchen table holding one of my newly washed photos. It was a color photograph of a teenage girl sitting on the sidewalk of Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn, everything in her bag across the street. I have long, curly red hair that looks beautiful in my pubescent tint, a beauty that I have not felt completely yet.The extra-marbled grandparents for Margot have just been activated, and she assures me that whatever belongs to you is mine because, after all, we are not the same as sisters rather than friends. Do not make me live in a mall just so you can pay half the rent, "she said jokingly but seriously. Money is something that Margot does not even think about, nor does he want to think about. So I learned how to control my pride and ignore the feeling of being hot whenever I had to borrow her. I tell myself that in this story the feeling of guilt is an excess, and that one day I could pay you back, if not money, it would be somehow different. In the first summer of summer in New York City, I added salt to my profile and put it in any job position I found. I received a lot of calls, but all of them were all promising interviews, because I was an empty hand. So finally I got a job at L'Express, a coffee shop on South Park Avenue that used to be like a Lyon bouchon. The long hours of work - I used to work late at night - and my legs were always painful, but not everything was bad. I made a surprising amount of money (more booze late at night), met many interesting people and learned everything I ever wanted to know about pork cheeses During my spare time, I usually go for a photo shoot, which is initially a hobby, a daytime recreation and to learn more about the city. I wandered around many neighborhoods - East Village, Alphabet City, Soho, Chinatown, Tribeca - while taking pictures with the 35mm lens my dad and Sharon bought for graduation. But soon, taking pictures became very meaningful to me. It becomes something I do not just love but really need to do, just as the writers talk about whether they are necessarily writing on the paper, or who are always running jogging. morning. Photographs made me happy, made me fill my purpose as I was actually at the time of lack of orientation and loneliness. I began to miss my mother more than in college, and for the first time in my life, I really wanted to have a romantic love. Except for a moment of sudden confusion and sneaky with Matt Iannotti in the tenth grade, I've never been particularly interested in a son. Sometimes I have a date with some guys and have had sex with two college friends, seriously, not seriously, but never approaching love. Nor did I ever say or write the word to anyone other than my family and Margot, at times when we both drank. Everything was fine with me until my first year in New York. I'm not sure what's changed in my mind, but maybe that's what I was really a grown-up person, and as Margot says, is surrounded by millions of people who seem to have all but Clear dreams and someone to love. So I dedicate my whole mind to photography. I spend every penny I can to buy a movie and spend all my free time taking pictures or getting bogged down in books in the library or bookstore. I devoured both the photographic reference books and the collections of famous photographers. My favorite book - Margot bought me on my twenty-third birthday - is Robert Taylor's The Americans, featuring a series of photographs of him taken in the 1950s as he traveled around the country. I was fascinated by his black and white photos, each containing a story in it. I felt as if I had known the muscular man leaning on the gramophone, the elegant lady looking over her shoulder in the elevator, and the black nanny petting for the white baby crying I realize that overcoming everything, feeling totally convinced that I know the characters in the picture in the viewer is the crux of a great work. If I take pictures like that, I think I can still feel full, even without a boyfriend. In my mind, I did not know what to do next, but it was Margot himself. Out of the obvious - one of the things that are actually friends are born to help each other like that. That day she had just returned home from her business trip to Los Angeles, threw the suitcase down, stopped at the kitchen table holding one of my newly washed photos. It was a color photograph of a teenage girl sitting on the sidewalk of Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn, everything in her bag across the street. I have long, curly red hair that looks beautiful in my pubescent tint, a beauty that I have not felt completely yet.I was just too young. With one hand I picked up the broken mirror, while the other hinted blankly at my forehead. "Oh!" Margot exclaimed, lifting the photo to her face. "Great picture." "Thank you," I said, trying to look normal but really feeling very proud. That's a great picture. "Why is she so sad in the picture?" Margot asked. I shrugged her to tell me that I rarely talk to the people I photographed. I only do that when people see me taking pictures of them and come to talk first. "Maybe she lost her wallet," Margot said. "Maybe you just broke up with your boyfriend," I said. Margot continued to study the photograph, commenting that her bright red stockings gave the picture a very special impression. Anyway, "Margot continued, using her usual sense of fashion," a long stock of pillows is coming back. Whether you like it or not. "" Not like it, "I replied. And then she said to me, "Your picture is really genius, Ellen." Margot nodded earnestly as she wrapped her soft hair in honey. into a tuxedo and then insert a ballpoint pen to keep it tight. It's a wonderful industry that I've tried to imitate hundreds of times, but never once did that look right. In matters involving hair, clothing or makeup, it's not clear how everything I learned from Margot was like. She nodded again and said, "You should pursue a professional photography career." "Do you think so?" I asked in a heartfelt manner. Strangely, I did not understand why, I never thought. to that Perhaps I was too anxious that my zeal was bigger than my ability. I can not stand the thought of failing in a field that I'm very passionate about. But Margot's opinion had a tremendous impact on me. And although sometimes Margot is not very honest in her Southern accent or praise, she never treats me like that. She always gives me candid remarks - a sign of true friendship. "I know that," she said. "You should attack that field. Doing the job really. "So on Margot's advice, I started looking for a new job related to photography. I applied to every assistant position I found, including a few assistants for poor photographers shooting wedding photos on Long Island. But because I was not formally trained again, I was rejected by all employers, and finally got into film work with a starving salary in a small, be archaic I needed a place to start, I thought to myself when I pulled the bus down to an unkempt area on Boulevard Two on the first day of work, as well as the sandwich - buttermilk in the basement There is only one ventilator, which smells of cigarettes and detergent. But it turns out to be an ideal starting job, all thanks to Quynh, the Vietnamese girl who married his son. image effect. Quynh is fluent in English but extremely talented in color, she teaches me more customizable prints than I can learn from any class (which is more than what I learn in the end). To be honest, when I finally entered the photography school. Every day while watching the slender fingers put the film up and then turn the buttons on the machines, add a little yellow, reduce the green part to get the best picture, I feel I love how much work I have chosen. My life is like that the day I received the summons summoned to that monster. Although still very poor, I always feel full, happy, overwhelmed with hope, so I'm not too worried about having to delay work (and income) to take responsibility in a jury. . However Margot suggested I ask for Andy's advice on how to get rid of responsibility, he was in his third year of law school at Columbia University. So I called him, and he assured me that it was easy. "I can not lie in the examinations to select a jury," Andy said as I listened and was impressed. The Latin term you use. "But you can exaggerate your prejudices. Just to hide the idea that you do not like the lawyers, do not believe the cops, and hate the rich bitter hate. Anything that seems like the guys in the court wanting to hear. "" Okay, "I say. "I really hate the rich," Andy laughed. You may think I'm joking, but surely from Margot, you know my constant misery. He cleared his throat and continued, "Strictly speaking, body language is a good trick. Make it seem reluctant and annoying to be there. It's as if I have a much more

important job. Keep your hands free