The Journey Of The World War I Essay

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“The destination is on our right in two hundred ten feet,” I directed. We had entered San Francisco around one in the afternoon. It was a bright city, bustling along in traffic to get to the various establishments set up. I held fond memories of the city from back in the 1910s of women walking in modest dresses and large hats with their dapper husbands on the streets, sometimes with a few rambunctious children. The people were happy and content in their lives, not realizing the First World War would break out at the end of 1914, a time of some of the worst devastation humanity had witnessed. But they did not know, and it had not yet bothered them, so they remained their peaceful selves as they went about their day. The fashion had changed along with the times, but I still saw the spirit of San Francisco, and I was reminded that some things were meant to live on forever. “Is it that huge white building?” Dawson wondered, craning his neck to look out my window. Squinting at the map, I nodded, “Yes, I believe so.” The building had ought to be at least seven stories high, and I saw beauty in the arch-like architecture that was then framed in beautiful stone carving. The flat roof was crowned with artwork of a similar style, and I had no doubt Anteros would find his place in such a building. Turning to find a way into the parking lot, I saw the Greecian columns and new he had to be in a place such as that. We parked a bit far away from the main entrance of the building to…

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