Reflective Essay

What I wanted from this class was a change of pace. I was ready to try something new--to not write a commentary about a book. I was pleasantly surprised. The class was filled with opinionated pieces and freedom to write about topics that actually interested me. I was able to put a piece of myself on the page. That isn’t an easy feat for me: to put myself into my writing. Firstly because I was trained not to do it for the sake of academic, analytical writing. Secondly because I am a very private person and don’t share much with people. With prompts like “What is Your Obsession?” and “Why I [Blank]”, how could I not put pieces of myself into the writing? This class let me see what my strengths were as a writer (grammar, structure, third person, academic writing). But it also showed me my weaknesses(creativity, exigence) and gave me a chance to work on them.  

I chose My Writing Inventory because it was the first assignment for this class. I wanted to show my starting point in the “writing world”. For example, the fact that I have a background in analytical writing and that I know it. I know it takes over everything I write. It is ingrained in my head. Even in the writing I do for my own enjoyment, I have the analytical side of me exposed on the page. I can’t get rid of it. I wanted this piece to show that I have developed as a writer. I can write creatively and add my own style to my work.

I chose the 200 word sentence (Nicaragua) because it was a descriptive piece. I don’t do a lot of writing like that especially not for an English class. The piece gave me a chance to elaborate. The description was open ended; I had just described the gated courtyard. I had multiple routes that I could take with the piece. I could describe the interior of the pink house, the people, our week in that little surf town, or where we had been before. I decided to talk about the scenery of Nicaragua as a whole and the town of San Juan del Sur because it was gorgeous. That said, it also broke my heart. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The entire trip was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I was away from home longer than I had ever been and in a place where English isn’t the native language. There was adventure and something new at every turn and I wanted to show that in this piece. This specific memory stood out to me because there was so much detail. It was completely overwhelming and chaotic. It was the perfect place to describe.

I hated the script I wrote about my obsession. I absolutely despised it. It was just a bunch of monologues strung together. There was a lot of information but it was dull and boring. It even put me to sleep when I read it. It’s about my passion! I shouldn’t dread reading about it! This was my chance to change that-- to make it an actual dialogue between the characters and make it easier to read. I had the chance to be creative, put myself in the place of my characters, and find the words they would use to discuss Philadelphia. This piece connected two of my weaknesses (creativity and exigence) and let me work to strengthen them. This was one of that last pieces we wrote and, now that it is cleaned up, I think it shows the beginning of change in my writing. i am trying to be more creative. I am attempting to let new styles, structures, and ideas into my writing inventory. This class has been the impetus for that.

Nicaragua

It had been a two hour drive from Managua filled with new sights that broke my heart. Though gorgeous, the country was ravaged by poverty and you could tell no matter where you went. Shantytowns were set up on the side of the road--little shacks made of scrap metal, cinder blocks, wood, and black plastic. Each was built off the next, like a winding maze. With every turn, you entered someone else’s home. There was trash everywhere. It didn’t matter that you had a clear view of the tree covered mountains off in the distance. If you looked down near the road, there were piles and piles of trash. It was so different from home. Different in every way possible it seemed: the scenery, the rules of the road, the government and its corruption, the way of life. They were still family oriented; you lived with the family until you were dead. You raised your family with them and kept them in your everyday life. Family is what mattered--not wealth or material things (though this wasn’t true for the entirety of the Nicaraguan people).

We turned onto a dirt road that was cut off 50 yards down by a chain link fence. It was as though we were in a fortress made of the concrete walls of other homes. On the left was our home for the week. A squat, aqua-colored house. There was a concrete stoop out front with an old woman sitting in a plastic lawn chair; like the ones we sit in to watch fireworks on Fourth of July. She stared off into the distance; didn’t seem to notice our arrival. The scene was like every other one we had passed in the small surf town. They were brightly colored, made of cinder blocks, had few windows, and metal roofs that I knew would roar when the rain fell on them.

We seemed so out of place there. A bunch of white girls--foreigners--coming to a little town on the coast, rolling up in a new, white minivan while most of the cars were in disrepair and were rusted from the salty air. We were gringas. And you could tell. We got out of the car and were ushered to a intricate, black wrought-iron gate. Our guide swung it open and motioned for us to follow inside.

We walked into the gated courtyard, which connected the larger, aqua colored house to the one painted a bubblegum pink color making them into a single, cramped compound that the entire family lived in. We found what can only be described as a well organized junk yard--like a hoarder had decided to occupy the outdoor space between the two buildings and fill it with the miscellaneous things he or she found on the street. It was comprised of opaque, plastic barrels filled with unknown goods, beaten up metal tables and rust-covered chairs, a couple of random doors in varying colors and conditions leaning against the shack-like house, bright multicolored children's toys--reminiscent of my own childhood-- scattering the ground, a large, well-used wood burning stove with dirty pots and pans stewing on top, steam rising out of a few of them and curling up into the dense, humid air, and laundry hanging from twine set up in an intricate design overhead. And the people--all with smiling faces and excitement in their eyes--welcoming us into this place that made me long for home even more than before; but this was home to them, and now it was home for us as well.

My Writing Inventory

I have been a writer my entire life--though I have mixed feelings about it. Writing for middle and high school classes was always a requirement that never linked with my love for the written word. These classes always criticized my grammar and diction. I was never given the opportunity to write what I wanted. I was trained in the art of essays but not in writing something that had meaning behind it. I was in the International Baccalaureate (IB) Programme for my junior and senior years of high school. It caused me great pain at the time, but made me an expert at writing analytical essays. IB wants students to think independently and see every perspective of a situation. If you are looking at a book written in Europe in the 17th Century, they want you to see the connections that it has with Asian History or the sciences or how people think. They want you to make connections between various subjects. IB taught me that things are never black and white and never affect only one aspect of life. It’s more than just knowing the facts. It’s knowing the facts, taking them, and drawing conclusions from them. Even so, the classes are all about being analytical. In IB English you focus simply on analyzing other people’s work. It is not creative writing. It’s appreciating someone else’s work--not creating your own art. This has caused me to automatically analyze any book I read, looking for the author’s intent or the use of motifs to move the plot along. Those two years of writing commentaries has ingrained that style into my head--I feel as though I am unable to escape it.

Even when a creative writing class was thrown into the mix, it never interested me and it made me nervous. When the time came to write a short story or a poem, I felt inadequate. I created something I absolutely despised. With that said, I write personal narratives all the time. I write in a journal about my daily life and thoughts. I write for my own benefit. It isn’t necessarily creative writing nor is it all analytical. It is just something that defines me. If I find a quote or a line in a book that speaks to me, I write it down. For example: “The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.” (Mark Twain). It makes me think. I wonder if I agree with the statement; I connect it to my own life and how I think about death.

I dissect these quotes, connect them to my life, and keep them forever in my journals. If I have a good day, or a bad day, I write it all down. Whether I am in love or in complete disarray, I write. When I got a turtle, when I go on a great run, when my parents have another petty fight, when I think about dying--I write. I write in a journal for the sake of my sanity, so I don't lose my feelings and my thoughts in the jumble that is my life. Everything I write about influences me. They change my perspectives and work to calm my racing mind. Some of this was gained from my time in IB. Part of it is because I keep my emotions bottled up and this was a release. Writing has become part of who I am.

What writing has done--in every setting-- is make me who I am today. It has shaped me to become this analytical person. I search and think about something until it is absolutely exhausted. It has shaped me to put my life into written words in order to find clarity. I have despised writing. I have loved it, been drawn to it, and been moved by it. It is such a large part of my life--even if I don’t want it to be.

The Making of a Place And a Lasting Memory (Script)

The Making of a Place And a Lasting Memory

SETTING

The scene takes place in a construction site in west Philadelphia. Yet another new project is in  the works. Three people stand on uneven dirt that’s been plowed out of the ground to make space for the foundation. There is concrete being poured, jack hammers buzzing, and various materials being shuffled all around the work site. There is constant noise, the type of noise that is constant and deafening.  The three stand among burly men. The men yell over the noise of the construction site and talk into walkie-talkies. They wear the usual construction work outfits: neon vests, work boots, jeans, sunglasses, and hard hats. The characters are looking at the floorplan for the new structure. It is to be a 27-story structure with crystal-clear glass all around. It looks industrial with steel bars mixing with the glass. It is like all modern architecture. It is beautiful, but seems out of place next to the Victorian houses that fill the streets. Each character is dressed like the men who surround them. They look like they are ready to jump in and help build this magnificent structure.

CHARACTERS

Inga Saffron: An architecture critic and journalist for The Philadelphia Inquirer. Her focus is on buildings and spaces encountered by Philadelphians on a daily basis. Before writing the architectural criticism column, Saffron was a correspondent in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. Witnessing the destruction and fates of cities there, she began to write about architecture. In 2010, Saffron won the Gene Burd Urban Journalism Award. In 2014 she won the Pulitzer Prize “for her criticism of architecture that blends expertise, civic passion and sheer readability into arguments that consistently stimulate and surprise” (Pulitzer Prize).

Paul Goldberger: A former architecture critic and journalist for The New Yorker. Goldberger has published multiple books and articles. He has won several awards, including the Pulitzer Prize in 1984. Goldberger has taught at several institutions and now lectures all around the country. He now works for Vanity Fair as a Contributing Editor. He has been called “the leading figure in architecture criticism” (Paul Goldberger).  

Dee Dee Strohl: A freshman at Drexel University studying architectural engineering. Strohl is an ametur writer specializing in analytical essays about classic books and Modern East Asian history. She also enjoys writing for herself about anything going on in life. Since childhood, she has appreciated buildings. Strohl finds wonder in the facades and hopes to work with the structures in her future. Besides an obsession with architecture, she has little expertise in the subject.

INGA SAFFRON: “Was it only [five] years ago that Radar Magazine crowned Drexel University the ‘ugliest campus’ in a roundup of American colleges? The charge seemed a bit unfair then, even if Market Street was still ablaze with Drexel's orange-brick relics” (Saffron 12 August 2014).

DEE DEE STROHL: Ponders Drexel’s campus. She thinks of all the buildings she passes for each class. You’re right. We still have a slew of orange buildings on campus. I didn’t really think of it until you pointed it out. I have no clue why they thought that was a good idea. The bricks are ugly, dull, boring. I would agree that we have one of the ugliest campuses in America if the mundane, orange-brick buildings continued to rule. There’s no creativity in that. There’s nothing awe-inspiring about orange boxes. I understand the want for the campus to be uniform and cohesive. That’s how college campuses around the country are. But that’s not the way to do it.

SAFFRON:  Drexel does continue to update their campus and add modern architecture into the mix. Just think about Millennium Hall and the new Sciences building. Both are incredibly modern in design and material.  That’s why this new building will fit in nicely. She gestures to the construction site. It follows the modern feel that the school favors now.

STROHL: I love the new constructions. I love the mix of modern and traditional buildings. Having both buildings like University Crossings and Millennium makes our campus different. I find it wonderful and eclectic, and honestly, I feel like it makes Drexel cohesive with the changing style that makes up Philadelphia as a whole.

SAFFRON: “You could argue that Philadelphia already has an architecture museum: itself. The city boasts an architectural lineage longer and more varied than that of almost any other place in America, ranging from the Lilliputian colonial-era houses along Elfreth's Alley to the gargantuan, newly minted Comcast Center, the country's tallest green skyscraper” (Saffron 6 June 2008). Philadelphia is ever-changing. New constructions are added on. The old rowhouses are refurbished. The old establishments are kept because “Philadelphia [is] so irrationally attached to their old, low-rise, inefficient rowhouses that they protect them with a Byzantine web of preservation laws” (Saffron 3 June 2011). “It's no accident that Philadelphia's strongest neighborhoods are those with the most intact historic fabric. The city's comeback has been built on old foundations” (Saffron 3 June 2011). She looks down at the plans. Begins to say something into a walkie-talkie. She turns back to the others.

GOLDBERGER: I agree that Philadelphia is constantly growing in the scheme of architecture. But are the new, glass-and-metal giants crushing the history that makes up Philadelphia? “The last few years, have brought a surge of growth to Philadelphia, and the possibility is very real that this city's genuinely urbane downtown may lose its feel. [Years ago] construction was completed on One Liberty Place, the 61-story tower by the architect Helmut Jahn that broke the city's traditional 491-foot height limit, becoming the first building ever in Philadelphia to rise higher than the statue of William Penn atop City Hall” (Goldberger 12 June 1988). People feared that this was going to crush Philadelphia’s skyline; like the old architecture would not matter anymore.

SAFFRON: But that isn’t what happened. The skyline--and the entire architectural make-up of Philly was solidified. People loved it and more buildings followed in its footsteps.

STROHL: I think that the building does add to the skyline and add to the urban order of the city. It has had a positive effect. It allowed for change to occur. One Liberty Place gave Philadelphia an actual skyline--and a beautiful one at that. It has continued to allow for changes in the architecture styles that fill our city.

SAFFRON:  “What if the celebrated urban planner Edmund Bacon had embraced the prevailing ideology of the 1960s and leveled Society Hill, replacing its blocks of outmoded, colonial-era townhouses with sleek modern high-rises for middle-class families? Would Philadelphia be a livelier, more successful place today? We are once again living in a time of pulse-quickening civic visions...The future Philadelphia that appears in the planners' crystal ball is a place where people bike to work, shop at neighborhood farmer's markets, dine at the corner brewpub, tap at laptops in the park at the end of the block, and regularly compost their food waste. It sounds like a shinier version of today's Philadelphia, one without the poverty and blight” (Saffron 10 June 2011).

STROHL: But would that really be better? I love the old architecture. I love it with every fiber of my being. That speaks more to me than Millennium or One Liberty Place or any of the other high-rises in our city. The old architecture is history. It is character. It adds to the beauty of this city. The Victorian houses, the cramped rowhouses, the exquisite City Hall, all provoke awe in me. They fill my head with ideas. The make me want to revive the crumbling buildings. That said, modern buildings provoke emotion in me as well. I find the use of metal and glass so interesting. I love the shapes created with the modern buildings--things you couldn’t (or wouldn’t) do with rowhouses. In 40 years these buildings will be what the Victorian houses are now. They will be a part of history and will have meaning. It is the mix between the old and the new that makes Philadelphia what it is. If they flattened Society Hill then we would lose a piece of history. If they opted to not build One Liberty Place, Philadelphia’s history would be different. The ever-changing skyline, and the city as a whole, is what Philadelphia is all about. It’s why I have fallen in love with the place. It’s what keeps me drawn to this school and this city.

GOLDBERGER: You picked a great place to live. “If buildings...didn’t represent their time, they would not have the iconic status that they do for us today” (Goldberger 213), and that’s what Philadelphia does. “Architecture has always reflected its time, and must do so. But it has traditionally emerged from a sense of place as well as of time, reflecting the materials, the needs, the particular sensibilities and choices of individual cities and communities” (Goldberger 226). “[It] never exists in isolation. Every building has some connection to the buildings beside it, behind it, around the corner, or up the street, whether its architect intended it or not. And if there are no buildings near it, a building has a connection to its natural surroundings that may be just as telling… If buildings are too much the same, the result can be oppressively dull” (Goldberger, 213). Like Drexel’s campus if still filled with orange-brick. “Architecture is the making of place and the making of memory” (Goldberger, 234), and that is what Philadelphia's architecture has done. That is what it will continue to do.

The three stare up at the massive building being created before their eyes. Then they get back to work.

Works Cited:

Goldberger, Paul. Why Architecture Matters. London: Yale University Press, 2009. Print.

Inga Saffron. The Philadelphia Inquirer Inga Saffron Column: Changing Skyline: Architecture

institute finally adds gallery. McClatchy-Tribune Business News 6 June 2008. Proquest.

Web. 1 November 2014.

Inga Saffron. The Philadelphia Inquirer Inga Saffron Column. McClatchy-Tribune Business

News 3 June 2011. Proquest. Web. 1 November 2014.

Inga Saffron. The Philadelphia Inquirer Inga Saffron Column. McClatchy-Tribune Business

News 10 June 2011. Proquest. Web. 1 November 2014.

Inga Saffron. The Philadelphia Inquirer Inga Saffron Column. McClatchy-Tribune Business

News 12 August 2011. Proquest. Web. 1 November 2014.

“Inga Saffron”. The 2014 Pulitzer Prize Winners.  The Pulitzer Prize, n.d. Web. 8 November

2014. <http://www.pulitzer.org/biography/2014-Criticism>

Paul Goldberger. Architecture View; Philadelphia’s Master Plan Rests on Its Streets. New York

Times 12 June 1988. Proquest. Web. 7 November 2014.

Paul Goldberger. “Biography”. Paul Goldberger. n.p, n.d. Web. 8 November 2014.

<http://www.paulgoldberger.com/biography/>

Contents

I chose two discussion board posts for this project. In the first introduction, I discuss the content of the piece and how that has led me to a new path with my writing. In the second, I rewrite the post because of structural issues. This also shows me what I have to work on. Finally, I revised my essay. From these three pieces of writing, I can see a path to follow in my writing life. I see what I want to change and the beginnings of how to get there.

Order of Works:

Your Writing Life (discussion board)

Our Obsessions (discussion board)

Architecture is Prose (essay)

An Introduction to Your Writing Life

I wrote this in response to a post by Allyson Louie about writing and how it is a part of her life. I think as a whole it is (mostly) well written. There are definitely grammatical errors and fragments (I always use fragments in my personal writing. I forget to write complete thoughts for works that other people will read). It is clear on my thoughts of her writing. I loved how she put the piece together and that basically said we are our own masters. I had never really thought about it that way. She discussed creating her own world through writing and I want to be able to do that. So far, I write about the present and what is happening in the real world. I haven't yet found a way to create somewhere else to go with my writing. This idea seems to be a theme for me so far in this class. My essay is about creating my own structure and filling it with my own decorations. This response delves into the idea of creating your own world through writing. What this class has showed me so far is that there is more to the writing world than analytical essays. What I want to do moving forward is to discover the other options.

Your Writing Life

I love that when I read this, I feel all of the passion you feel for writing. I understand how important it is to you. I completely understand how writing goes with your mood. I write in a journal and have found that what and how I write is all based on the mood I'm in. Do you feel like you have gained something from reading so much? Do you feel like your own writing has changed because of what you read? For me, I hope that the style and art that the authors I read use does rub off on me. I want that not only so I am a better writer for classes but also a stronger writer for myself. But maybe you think differently. I love the idea you've come up with that you are the master of your own world. Nothing has to matter to you because you are the creator. It's nice to get away from this world and travel to your own place and I love that we share that desire to find our worlds in the written word.

An Introduction to Obsessions

This is a response to a post by Andrew Leavitt about his obsession. In my mind, this is just a mess. There’s great substance about our obsessions. You get a good look at the passion we have for our subjects. But the presentation is all over the place. I jump around and a cohesive thought process is not shown. If I were to rewrite it, it would look something like this:

I understand people getting annoyed with your obsession. I keep mine on the down-low because people don’t really care. People don’t seem to get how intensely I love buildings. I stare for long periods of time at ceilings and walls. I look up floor plans to learn more about the buildings. I take photos of the buildings that catch my eye. I doodle houses on any piece of paper I get my hands on. People seem to forget that they also have an obsession. Unless you share the same love, you won’t ever see that object or idea or building like they do. Like you with cars. I don’t really care about cars. However I think it’s interesting that you love cars. You don't just love the bits that make up the car or the models. You like driving, too. It makes me feel like you are obsessed with cars in every way you can be. I wish I could be more hands-on with my obsession, but architecture is something so massive and complex that there isn't really a tangible way to enjoy it. With cars, you can touch them, you can build them, you can drive in them. That’s one of the main reasons I want to be an architectural engineer.

Our Obsessions

I can understand people getting annoyed about your obsession. I keep mine on the down-low more because no really cares about my obsession. I don't think people understand why you love that one thing so much and they forget that they have something that they have an obsession as well. I think it's interesting that you love cars. You don't just love the bits that make up the car or the models. You like driving, too. It makes me feel like you are obsessed with cars in every way you can be. For me, I draw houses and take pictures of buildings that stick out to me, but I don't really have the chance to actually create or touch the architecture. That's more because my obsession is something so massive and complex that there isn't really a tangible way to enjoy it. With cars, you can touch them, you can build them, you can drive in them. You can't really do that with buildings. But I take what I can get. I stare for long periods of time at ceilings and walls. I look up floor plans to learn more about the buildings. If there was a way to be more hands-on, I would find it and never stop doing it--thus why I want to become an architectural engineer.

An Introduction to the Essay

This is the revised version of my essay. I made some minor grammatical changes throughout. I mostly changed the word choice that I used. I needed to be more concise and clear with the words I used to describe. I have always had an issue with this. I know what I want to say in my head, but putting it into words in a way others will understand is more difficult. Your suggestions helped spur more ways for me to have better word choice. I am getting better at finding the right words but it’s a process and is going to take a long time to perfect (if it’s something that can be perfected). In the final comment, you say that I should try to expand my structure right there on the page. I think it’s a wonderful idea. That said, I am uneasy about it. It is something so new to me and I really don’t even know where to begin. I kept my analytical structure for this essay because it worked with the content. I also kept it because I had no idea how to shift to a new structure. I know I have to make the jump at some point. I just want some guidance as to which way to go. That contradicts everything I have said in my essay. But I want to follow someone else’s footsteps and be shown the ropes of a new structure.  Then, when I feel more prepared, I will follow my own feet.

Prose is Architecture: The Revised Essay

Prose is Architecture

“Prose is architecture, not interior decoration” -Ernest Hemingway

This quote grabbed my attention because I have a passion for architecture. I love looking at the facades. I love learning how they were built and what is hidden behind them. When I really started dissecting the advice, I came to a realization. I have been stuck in a single box, writing in an analytical format my whole life. Even my personal writing began to mirror what I had learned for school. The advice stood out because it says that writing is not about filling a given space, but about creating the space itself.

I have been trained to write analytical papers and five paragraph essays my entire life. Graders for Advanced Placement and International Baccalaureate like them; it makes it easy for them to assign points. Slowly I’m learning that my writing life isn’t always going to entail an analytical essay about Heart of Darkness or an essay explaining the social effects of the Gilded Age. I will be writing about a multitude of topics for a variety of readers. It would be dull to only write one way. With that format, I could convey the wrong message. I would lose all personality in my writing. I have a sense that I am losing many opportunities because I am not building my own space. I have just been filling the space given to me when I should be creating my own. I do not have to limit my writing to one style or one genre. I am the creator of the box my writing goes into.

Hemingway is saying that there is value in having a strong and original structure. One cannot simply focus on the content. How you write about a subject, your diction, and how you choose to format the words matters. How you convey your ideas is how they spread throughout the world. How well you bring the writing together dictates who and how people read your work. You wouldn’t create an unstable building, so why would you create a piece of writing without the proper structure?

I want to explore and understand the beams, foundations, and materials used by the authors I read. They create their own structures-- their own architecture-- instead of attempting to fit inside a generic box. I am hopelessly in love with the novel The Book Thief. Markus Zusak takes a different approach to telling the story by making Death the narrator. His voices adds darkness to the work: “I will often catch an eclipse when a human dies. I’ve seen millions of them...more eclipses than I care to remember.” (Zusak 11). He adds pictures, small notes, and lists within the book to catch the reader’s attention and give more information. Zusak finds a way to intertwine several stories that seem disjointed: “During the nights, both Liesel Meminger and Max Vandenburg would go about their other similarity. In their separate rooms, they would dream their nightmares and wake up, one with a scream in drowning sheets, the other with a gasp for air next to a smoking fire.” (Zusak 219). Reading the book several times, I have discovered that the stories all connect on a deeper level. Zusak mixes all the thoughts and emotions of the characters into a cohesive piece of writing. He not only formed his own structure but decorated it beautifully.

The strong ties between structure and content are not addressed in this writing advice. Hemingway emphasizes the importance of structure, but the content chosen is essential as well. Both play an integral role in writing. Like we have recently been discussing in class, the format can affect the content and vice versa. Prose is much more than just “architecture” or just “decoration.” As a whole, you cannot just focus on format or on content. The space you create has a great effect on the writing. But you can’t leave it an open space. You have to fill a well structured space with beautiful tools for living. You must fill the space with something meaningful. People are far less likely to enjoy or even read a piece of writing that has an immaculate format but no substance.

I want to be able to experience every perspective of this advice. I want to see the architecture and the interior decoration. I want to fill new boxes, not use the same, analytical format I have been writing in for years. I want to see how changing the functional pieces that fill a space can change a piece of writing; even if the architecture is still the same. I want to write short stories, follow the paths of writers that inspire me, or write a personal narrative without the  analytical side taking over. At the same time, I have become increasingly curious about how to change my own writing. I don’t want to be trapped in a single, analytical cage for the rest of my writing career. I want to explore, change, and grow. I want to go about creating a building instead of filling the space someone else has made.

Works Cited:

Zusak, Markus. The Book Thief. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2006. Print.