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Irony In Shakespeare's Othello

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It was the way he crinkled his nose when he smiled. It was the way he laughed. He didn’t laugh like one of those goofy guys who giggled and covered their mouths as if they were embarrassed by their own laughter. No. Not him. He threw his head back and let his happiness overflow. He laughed until his sides ached and his mouth felt numb. We laughed until we could laugh no more.

It was the way he held his nephews and nieces. He spun them around in circles and rolled around in the grass with them. His beautiful suit covered in grass stains and food, but he didn’t care. “It’s just a suit. Who cares? Come swing with me!”

It was the way he loved the tart taste of raspberries and the crunch of apples, but hated the blandness of apples and the gooeyness of raspberries. It was the way he ate, …show more content…

He moved until the bed shook. I couldn’t stop his dreams from haunting him, and all I could do was hold him and pray he would stop shaking. It was the way he recited Shakespeare in his sleep. I heard the entire second act of Othello from his slumbering lips one hot summer night.

It was the way he thought. When he disappeared into the confines of his beautiful mind, he became still, disconnected from us mortals. His heavy-lidded eyes and his dreamy smile were intoxicating. It was as though he had lived a thousand lives and loved a thousand times. It was the way he became quiet when he was drunk. He was introspective and when I asked him what he was thinking, he would reply, “Everything and nothing.” He was wise beyond his years, and yet so young and fragile. I had to be careful not to break him.

It was the way his hair smelled. Clean. Cool. Coconuts. Long curls, straight strands. I wanted to bury my fingers in it, weave it into my soul and bind him to me forever. It was the way his skin felt smooth and warm and lush. I wanted to live in him. I wanted to lose myself in him. His past, his present and his future were my drugs. I was a hopeless

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