The passage I chose is from pages 20-29.

This passage is a great example of

how Virginia Woolf writes.
1. She starts out with something seemingly simple, like an airplane
writing in the sky, which is seen and mentioned from the point of view
of one character.
2. Then, we enter that characters mind, and the writing becomes a
constant stream of thoughts in third person.
3. It begins with a description of the area around them in order to orient
the reader, full with similes and metaphors, yet it quickly enters into
deeper thoughts and memories.
4. These thoughts flash between present and past, without any
announcement of whether the character is in the past or present; the
reader has to decipher that for themselves.
5. The characters background is revealed to the reader piece by piece,
instead of the traditional way of all at once.
6. The paragraphs are long; the breaks signify a change in thought
direction.
7. The sentences are dragged on, strung together with commas and
semicolons, rather than broken apart with periods.
8. Suddenly, there is a shift in which character is being mentioned with no
announcement. Pronoun changes may clue in the reader, but the big
clue is the description of the object that was seen from the other
characters point of view, from this characters point of view; a hinge of
sorts.
9. The majority of the plot takes place within a characters head, rather
than being spoken out loud between two characters
10.The rhythm of the writing is a bit choppy because it is just a constant
flow of thoughts.

On my honor, I have neither given nor received unauthorized aid

_____________________________

Franklin Street, the busiest one in downtown Chapel Hill, was too hot.
Bethany thought there were too many people, and too little space, for the current
temperature of 85 degrees; but then again, 85 degrees always felt twenty degrees
hotter in the North Carolinian humidity. She focused instead on the scene around
her; lush green trees melding strangely with the metal surrounds, transitioning from
green into gray, like a playground, or a Prius; Carolina blue t-shirts, pants, cups,
plates, and pompoms attacking her in each store window; black tar that stretched
past where the eye could see, rolling slightly in the distance like waves in the ocean,
due to that intense heat. There were a few cars on the road, but the sidewalk was
empty; she was with no one but her herself as company. She was meeting Arthur at
the local coffee place, whos green and pink sign she could see a few yards ahead;
Arthur who loved her fully and purely, unconditionally and wholly; Arthur who
deserved better than the damaged goods she could offer him. Why was it that those
who were too good for this world, always managed to find those best left alone?
Was it an example of their goodness, that they may shine their light into dark
caverns; the worlds way of balancing out good and evil; or their one imperfection,
that they may be doomed to forever want that which they deserved better than?
She was not always darkness; at one point, she too was light, she too was good, she
too was pure. But that was now nothing more than a distant memory, a happy
snapshot that showed all the good times once enjoyed, but did made no promise
that they would come once again.
A horn, bright and angry, blared down the asphalt. A car, somehow in the
middle of the lanes, was speeding towards oncoming traffic; the drivers head had
been momentarily tucked under the dashboard. She jerked her from the sound of

the horn, to the car, the one with the driver who was now aware of his bleak
situation, with eyes like saucers and a mouth of a dying fish. A sudden screech
made Bethany look back into the street, at the car, and she saw the driver jerk his
head up, his hands flailing madly on the steering wheel. And seemingly at once,
those eyes were upon her; that car on a trajectory path; its destination, her.
She walked down the street glided really, as her feet never really touched
the ground. It was as though she was afraid of breaking anything around her. She
couldnt see him, but he could see her; his eyes always found her in a crowd. She
was a magnet, always drawing the gaze of those around her: a heart shaped face
framed by a mass of untamable black hair; big almond shaped brown eyes, set in a
face the color of a rich hot chocolate; a warm, easy smile that might have been the
solution to the energy crisis. She fit in here, with the warm thick breeze kicking up
pieces of her hair, and the giant rays of sun slanting off both metal and plant alike
as her background. She often told him she did not understand his infatuation with
her; how could she, when she refused to see what he did? Yes, she was scarred from
her encounter with that man whose name he couldnt bear to think, but if anything,
it added to her beauty. That she could survive what happened to her; that she could
fight through the pain and fear instead of letting it consume her showed her
strength and her determination; her passion and resistance.
Excuse me sir, would you like something? asked the male waiter standing
by his shoulder. He had forgotten where he was; outside of a coffee shop, sitting at
a table anticipating his guest. He glanced up at the waiter; he would be a handsome
young fellow one day, Arthur thought, and smiled as he explained he was waiting
for a friend, and would order once she got there. Friend was not the right word for
their relationship; it was too weak; it did come close to describing the depth of their

connection. He eyes, once again of their own accord found Bethany. She was
nearing him now, yet she seemed lost in her own mind. A smile played on his lips;
how he loved how everything had meaning to her. A sudden noise drew his
attention away from her; a horn blared from behind Bethany, and he looked towards
the cause of the disruption. It was a car that had somehow drifted in the middle of
the lane, now swerving to avoid the cars he was in danger of hitting. Yet his new
path was even more dangerous, for at the end of it was his wide eyed, dark haired
beauty; his Bethany. She froze, and he did too, frightened to look, yet unable to look
away.