Long Black Song ESSAY - Wisneski 1 Ryan Wisneski Meri Culp...

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Wisneski 1 Ryan Wisneski Meri Culp AML2600 Due: November 24 th , 2009 The Many Uses of a Graphophone Born in the brain of a great inventor, and enhanced by my maker Mr. Bell, to be far superior to my cousin’s flawed design, I was crafted of a brass chassis with a walnut top fixed to an iron frame. Made from hard metal to create such soft tones, I was developed in the interest of recording and reproducing sound and as a potential aide for teaching the deaf. My creation was for the good of mankind, to enhance the quality of life for some, and to extend possibilities to new heights in the interest of sound. I was made as an instrument that was to bring joy all that used me, but cursed in my own situation as I was the instrument of misfortune and rape. This was a recurring theme that I seemed to encounter with my driving companion, who rudely enough he never told me his name, and myself all the while I just waited for the day it might come to an end. We were driving down a long dirt road; the dust in the air seemed to resemble steam coming up for the bare ground in the sweltering summer afternoon heading to Lilydale so that my companion may continue north selling my siblings and I. The black car continued to rattle down the road kicking up more dust as it continued down the winding road to what I could start to make out was a small house. As we got closer we could make out a young black woman that looked to be in her late twenty’s, she was wearing a simple grey colored dress that didn’t look to be much more than a beat up piece of cloth that had been on the wash board too many times. When we reached the front of the house, the car stopped and my companion got out and tried to seem genuine towards the young lady, with a courteous hello and some general small talk about the weather before breaking into the sales pitch that came with hidden stipulations.
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Wisneski 2 “I’ve got something to show you. Can I sit here, on your porch?” “Ah reckon so. But, Mistah, Ah ain got no money.” “Haven’t you sold your cotton yet?” “Silas gone t town wid it now.” “When’s he coming back?” “Ah don know. Ahm waitin for im.”
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Long Black Song ESSAY - Wisneski 1 Ryan Wisneski Meri Culp...

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