final assignment: My village

Kendaga is the name of my village. It is located in Banjarmangu sub-district, and Banjarnegara district. It has a variety of stunning natural attractions for tourists, such as the Earth's camp of Mount Lawe, protected Forest Pawinihan, Ngelak springs, and has various cultural attractions such as kesenian embek or lumping horse, seni karawitan, etc.
The land in my village is very unstable. It is a common thing to see the high ground on your backyard has collapsed one morning after a night rain. Or to turn all the way around to find a way to your school just because the common used way was closed in soil from the landslide.
Despite all the nature condition, most of people from my village earn money from farming because the land has fertile soil. They think positive about the natural phenomenon and help each other in every situation.


descriptive text
pratama lysa H.
2201408107

final assignment: Letter about Father

It was a usual evening in my home. Although the time hardly could be called a night yet, the sounds of the insects could be heard surrounding the house. No more sounds of busses or cars, just some of them along with the sounds of motorcycles every now and then from the road.
I sat in my dining room, absent-mindedly opening the two pages of newspaper, which was discarded on one of the chairs. That was when I found a letter from a reader on one page, it was about father.
It really reminded me of my own father. How he had struggled for the family. Then without warning my tears fell down my cheeks. I brushed it off with my fingers in hurry. My mother was eating right in front of me atg that time. Now, I am not a person who easily cries. It surprised me to see how easy a simple writing could touch one’s heart if you write with tender feelings too.

recount text
pratama lysa H.
2201408107

final assignment: The Old Me

The soft breeze softly touched my skin. Ugh… don’t grimace at me like that! Don’t you know that even a tree like me has skin too? Oh, you skipped the biology classes again, didn’t you? Ok, maybe it didn’t look like skin, too ragged, hey, I was old! I realized that yesterday, when I found that I was bigger than most trees surrounding me, and taller. You know how to measure a tree’s age right? With the rings in its log, no? you definitely has to repeat your biology class.
I had seen many things in my long life. What do you want to know? Blue-blooded family scandals? A duke with his mistresses? The beautiful rich girl who met her lover on my root? Or when people crazy about Elvis? The Beatles? And now what you called it? Red Hot Chili Peppers? That’s a ridiculous name, you know. Hearing all their songs made me dizzy, and that, made my leaves fell fast. I really prefer when people had picnic around me, within my shadow, listening to Beethoven, Batch, or something like that. The children ran around me, trying to climb up my branches while their parents discussing about the family future. Oh, how I wished to see those moments again.
I had seen the World War I in 1914 until 1918, the government frantically learned to mobilize and control the industrial societies. That was when this climate condition began. The global warming issue began in 1930s. People were afraid of the ice ages that were threatening to come. The ice in the Antarctic began to melt, they said.
Frankly enough, now, almost eight decades after that, the ice ages have never come. They said not yet anyway. But with approximately 1,6 billion people live in this earth, I know someday it will come. In my height, it is more difficult to breath from time to time. Oh no! you are questioning me again whether I breath, aren’t you? Of course I do, like every living creature in this world, I do need oxygen.
From my aging body, I could see the sun shines every morning on the east horizon. The green emerald had disappeared anyway. Now the shine fell to the dry ground, to the sky scrapers, trough the smoke of industrial waste.
With this old earth, I’m waiting for my own time to come. To when the termite has filled me to the bone. And I fell down with all of the glory I had known.

narrative text
pratama lysa H.
2201408107

The Habit of Unfinished Stories by Writers

The Habit of Unfinished Stories by Writers

From the habit of unfinished stories by most writers, there haven’t been any mentions of the ways for the writers to finish their stories.
The writers, first of all, have to decide what they want to write before starting to write something. By doing so, they will be able to create the brainstorming of their stories. Brainstorming can help writers when they are stuck in the middle of their stories and running out of ideas.
Good stories are mostly created from a good brainstorming. The style of the writers when they elaborate the brainstorming differentiates one writer with another.
I think that writers, who want to stop their habit of unfinished stories, should follow a few steps mentioned above.
Hortatory Exposition text
Pratama Lysa H.
2201408107