Two minute quick-write:
As a teenager, I spent the majority of my time after-school and summer mornings at the Ice Palace, a skating rink in Allentown, PA. In this place I was free. In this place I worked, I played, I laughed, I flew, I fell... and fell again. But I always got back up. I could be me.
- Everything you SEE
- Everything you HEAR
- Everything you SMELL
- Everything you FEEL
Here's my re-written, more descriptive paragraph revision.
Pulling open the heavy wooden door, I lug my bag to the bench, plop down, and dig out my skates. I see that Mary is already on the ice, strapped to the harness with her coach working out the landing on her double axel. I lace up and step onto the black spongy, scuffed, and worn flooring leading out to the rink. The humid, cold-heavy air hits my face as I step through the hockey puck marked boards onto the smooth glass surface. I breathe it in, sweat, mildew, and leather, and curse under my breath at the stupid hockey players as I glide past the frozen yellow-green gobs they spit near their bench.
Rounding the corner a second time, I can feel my breathing, quick and even as my silver blades cut thin white lines in the shine below. Their sharp edges crackle and sing as I turn, crunching my toe-pick and springing upward. My legs, warm and strong, know exactly what to do. I am flying, spinning, fast and free. I am finally me.