Friday, March 4, 2011

WALK

The heavily-pregnant woman lumbered on the street with her husband beside her.

John stormed in with heavy steps.

The stray dog kept trotting behind me, eyeing at my burger.
The little toddler trotted after the mother obediently, sucking on her thumb as if it was a lollipop.

The old man limped stiffly towards the hospital.

He tottered painfully, having suffered from severe muscle ache.
The old lady tottered unsteadily with the help of her walking stick.

The mischevous boy slinked away when his mother was not watching.
He slinked away hastily, after someone had informed him of the loansharks' arrival.


I quickened my steps, knowing that I would miss the bus if I did not hurry.

The old drunkard staggered out of the bar onto the street and attracted the attention of the police officers patrolling nearby.

Rixon marched out of the room, too angry to say anything.

He treaded gingerly on the rope during the performance, balancing himself with a long pole.
When she spotted the cockroach, she screamed and treaded on it instinctively.

He crept into the house without making any noise to avoid waking up his parents.

Tom strode confidently to the stage to collect his prize.

The assassin sneaked away after shooting dead the Prime Minister.

The gangster swaggered in haughtily with his sidekicks beside him.

The students wandered aimlessly in the shopping mall.

Jerry roamed the busy streets, refusing to go home after an argument with his dad.

The teacher spun away  and headed to the door, with disappointment on her face.

They made their way to the exit after the performance had ended.

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"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."

Henry David Thoreau