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Write a descriptive essay in about 300 words on the topic 'A View From the
Top of a Waterfall'. Use the following pointers to write.
The path to the top of the waterfall
The climate and the atmosphere
• Description of nature around you
The force of the water and the sounds it makes
Answers
Answer:
Explanation:
I ambled along the mountain path. An unusual humming sound vibrated in the air. It sounded like a swarm of bees. Then the buzzing transferred to the rock beneath my feet. It travelled through my body and I felt a tingle that ran up to my fingertips. I rounded the corner and the source of the sound revealed itself.
It was a whirruping waterfall. At this distance, it looked like silver tear tracks on the wrinkled face of the mountain. It was tiered and plunged into the depths of a paradise-blue pool. As I began to get closer, the noise of the cataract increased. It was growling and rumbling. Then it foamed into lather at the base. The waterfall seemed to fuse itself into distinct threads of watery fabric as I approached. It was as if a loom of liquid silver was pouring down the rocks. The sound was cacophonous now. The spout was hitting the cavernous hollow of the pool like a thunderclap. It rushed down the mountain, roiling and bubbling, boiling and churning. The pool fed two other smaller waterfalls, but they were not as deafening.
I walked along the edge of the rocks, leaving the swollen noise of the large pool behind. The sounds changed to a gentler swoosh-plunk and hiss-plop. It was still a salvo of sound, but it had a gentler slushiness to it. The two waterfalls streamed into one infinity pool of bliss. From it, the last spillway flowed, as smooth and fluvial as silver dew. It spilled over the gravelly bed with the honeyed sensuality of a lover’s kiss. It was chiming as it slid, svelte and slinky, past my feet. The chinking, tinkling sound was caused by its languid slickness echoing from rock. It looked like the sleek robe of a water witch as its glassy brilliance pinged and plinked. Its edges were seamed in silver and glinted in the aureate light.
Just then, the sun came out. Its rays caught the watery slide, giving it a trance-like quality. It turned it a-glitter, like shreds of silky silver. The airy sparkling of its spray was magical. It looked like a spritz of fairy dust, flickering in the slanted light. It had the dreamy and illusory façade of a Renaissance painting and the same shimmering sorcery a mirage brings. The drizzling spray created a filmy mystique above the pool, dazzling me with its beauty. It gurgled from the depths and tinkled on the surface, swishing with a sylph-like melody.
The noise subsided as I walked away. It became a distant humming again. I ventured one look back over my shoulder. The willowy waterfall flashed silver one more time. Its soul-swelling magic followed me all the way home.
Answer:
Your answer is down below
We gasped in astonishment at the clarity of the Caribbean-blue waterfall. It was spurting over the basalt rock, spilling eel-like over the ledges. Its clamorous passage at the foot of the mountain threw up bubbles of spray. They sparkled uneasily in the dying light and shimmered like the ghostly, blood drops of a phantom.
There was a whooshing vortex at the bottom. It was caused by the plummeting funnel of water that spiralled from on high. It looked like a drape of blue aluminium, such was its lushness. The cascade was sieved with silver at its fringes, lending a hallucinatory quality to it.
Wagtails were bobbing and dipping on a rock, foraging for juicy flies. The tip of the rock pierced the rhapsody-pool like the upturned nose of a dwarf. Run off water tingled the rock as it seeped away, distilled as pure and clear as an angel’s tears. There appeared to be a cave under the arch of waterfall. Quickly shedding our jumpers and shoes, the bravest of us plunged into it. The watery slide we passed through was so cold that our bodies were quaking when entering the cave.
At first, our only impressions were of a curtain of doom-black confronting us. Then our senses became fully attuned. The air was musty and rank, like sticking your head into an old dustbin. The reason why became obvious as our night vision kicked in. It was littered with fish bones, hundreds of them. Whether otter, heron or bear had done this over millennia, we did not know. The sooty darkness at the back of the cave seemed gloomy and dank and we felt that only impure, wicked things would be found there. None of us had the courage to delve any further. The bones seemed to grin up at our hesitation as we turned to go out.
We burst through the wall of water and looked up to see a hopeful, polestar-blue sky. A cup of hot soup was waiting for us and we sipped in silence. The fragrance of the marzipan sweet flowers added to the peace. It tasted unearthly and Arcadian after the experience of the cave. It gave a new meaning to the term comfort food.
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