Audience is firm in my mind when I write. Though I cannot put a face to my imaginary spectators, I find myself writing in a particular way. For instance, when I wrote the piece below as homework, I did not imagine the reader slapping their forehead in exasperation, or imagine them cursing my numbnuttedness; sure, they didn’t respond enthusiastically but there was no booing or catcalls. Rather, every time I put pen to paper, I imagine I am making a very small portion of the world content, even if it is just the fictional cross-section of humanity in my imagination. This lie keeps me productive even when there is no concrete evidence of my efforts yielding results.
The Coursera homework
There are three key factors that define the modern adult in Spain: a strong presence on social networking sites, access to a motorbike, and the ability to define others flawlessly. Since the dawn of the internet, Man has sought to shape his identity online, and has endured innumerable technological setbacks to achieve this goal. It all began at birth when the first parents put up baby pictures on Facebook, and gradually developed as their young became autonomous, and set up their own accounts. This evolution has its downside; plugged into their smart phone, the newly-formed adult can be recognised by an obliviousness to traffic, bicycles, and the scorn of others verging on the life-threatening. Aside from life on a virtual plane, another important characteristic is attitude: namely, I am Man and I will do as I like. Nothing communicates this rugged indifference like the motorbike rider who weaves in-between traffic forcing others to halt suddenly so he can zoom past, or the bike helmet, swinging languidly against the knee like a maverick testicle, as its owner strides into a room. They are as Spanish as the saying: No me toques los cojones! (Don’t you bust my balls!). Finally, with all the experience of life gained from the road and the internet, comes the last part of the essential toolkit of maturity. Adulthood brings with it knowledge of the giant catalogue of archetypes, which characterise life in Spain: guiri (tourist), pijo (posh, or up-themselves), choni (common as muck), and perroflauta (one who plays pipe for money and is accompanied by a small dog, preferably a Staffordshire). To sum up, you can only say that your son or daughter has come of age in Spain, when you they are able to post a message on Twitter, in which they dissect the personality traits of their classmates in less than 150 words without using vowels, while riding a motorbike in rush-hour traffic.