Inside a room in my 4-story house, I sat at a desk completing my homework. Finally, as I finished, I glanced out to watch what was going on outside my window, which was laced with scarlet velvet curtains. The first thing I saw was Oak Park, which is directly across the street from my house. Beautiful pine trees surround the park, and many squirrels often scurry along them. The green swing sets smell of new paint, the shiny, lanky slide reaches up to the sky, and the jungle gym and monkey bars stand proudly in the middle of the park.
Oak Park is so simple, yet so profoundly elegant.
From this window in my spacious but untidy bedroom, I caught a glimpse of an old man sitting on a green park bench in the middle of Oak Park, right by the monkey bars. He looked very lonely as well as abandoned. His face was so pale that it almost matched the color of the clouds above. His wrinkly hazel eyes were millions of streams flowing into a gigantic ocean. His shriveled mouth, which I assumed was from years of cigars and such, twisted into a frown as I watched.