Book Creator

SOUL

By Matteo Schisano

A building for human habitation, especially one that consists of a ground floor and one or more upper stories. That's the definition of a house. Plain and simple right? No, a house is much more than a place, it is the people with you that make it a house. A house is something where you feel that you belong. I have lived in many houses in many different places, it was always with my mom, dad and brother and still is, so to me, where my family is is where my house is. That sweet, warm feeling like that of drinking rich hot chocolate on a cold winter's day.

Home

But, when I go visit my family in places far away different from the one where I live for Christmas, I always feel at home. I remember being near the fireplace, with warm air cuddling me whilst listening to the gentle cracking of the flame and looking out the window to see delicate white snow enveloping my surroundings like a blanket of fluffy cloud. A house to me is where memories are made, good or bad, like the first day of school or new years day. Some memories can make you feel warm inside like a teddy bear hugging your heart, and others create a cold inside, freezing all your joy. A house is like a candle, warm and strong with a flickering light at the top, which makes me feel safe.

I love taking walks through nature with nothing but my phone to listen to music whilst I walk so that I can have the time to listen to music and nature at the same time, like the soft crunch of the autumn leaves when you step on them, like biting into a wafer. I enjoy sitting down by the chimney fire doing nothing and watching the fire crackle and flicker in the air as if it were in a slow dance, flowing like trees in the wind, so mesmerizing and warm. I also love cutting poached eggs, the mini explosion of the egg yolk and the warm vibrant orange that covers the whole plate after.

I enjoy the sound of my shoes gripping and ripping off the basketball court floor. the sound is similar to that of velcro ripping, just softer and smoother. Sleeping in the contrast between my warm, fluffy cloud like bed and the air conditioner blasting a cool breeze in my room as if I were in the center of a cold winter's day wrapped with layers and layers of linen sheets. I adore grabbing warm, crunchy-crusted bread, but not burnt, so that when you go through the crunchy layer the warm, spongy insides are exposed, bread and wiping the bottom of the pan to grab the leftover sauce that had been made.

However, I don't like sleeping on the right side of the bed or wearing jeans, any jeans, they are simply when walking, standing and sitting, and a hassle to put on, and are hard to adjust without a belt. I also dislike spicy foods for two main reasons; the first being that I can not stand the feeling of your throat being on fire and not being able to taste anything for the rest of the day. I don't like going into deep mouths of water alone as I still have the irrational childhood fear of, yes, sharks coming and eating you.

Ball

In life, everything comes and goes, friends, objects, money, but to most people there are some things that seem to last forever like family, a book, a picture. I have those, but the object in particular that I can count on like the sun rising is my ball.

It has been there when I feel like I can face my fears or when I'm feeling as useless as a rock, It is always there ready for me. Although it has been through a lot, and has scars all over it like cracks in the wall, which remind me of all the things we have been through and pushes me to work harder everyday. It is full of energy and is constantly jumping up and down, like a child on Christmas Day, but like all things it needs rest; preparing for the next adventure that we go on whether it be in an oven like room or a concrete jungle.

There are many different eye colors, there is blue, purple, grey. In my family, eyes paint a picture of past generations, I have my grandmother's eyes and she has her mother's before her. They are ocean blue on the outside, emerald green in the filing with a pillar like pattern, like the emerald palace in the wizard of oz and in the center, around the pupil are streaks of orange just like those that surround the sun, and at the center was the coal black pupil. My father has similar eyes to mine, but are completely different to those of my mother and brother, their eyes are an amber brown which resembled pools of golden honey when under the sun.

Just one glance, we can see boredom or joy, tired or even angry, like the quote "a picture paints a thousand words" but instead of words it's our eyes. It is easiest to tell if my mom is angry as her eyes would be fiery and large, it's also simple to see when she is happy as her eyes looked kind and smily. For my father, telling whether he's happy is straightforward as his eyes glistened like the stars in the sky. But my brother, it's hard to tell what he was feeling as his eyes are cheeky, it is as if they are grinning all the time waiting to tell you that he switched the salt with sugar. Although my family's eyes are all different and have different personalities and colors, yet they all told a story and always brought a warm sense of home and belonging.

Eyes