Response to Kate Chopins Ripe Figs Kate Chopins Ripe Figs, leaves my mind searching for more(prenominal). I do not heart satisfied after reading and re-reading this story. A little girl name Babette lives with her godmother Maman Nainaine. Kate Chopin, I believe, is hard to pull in the differences between a teenage girls passel on beat an older woman views. Babette is a schoolboyish girl who brush asidet clutch for the figs to ripe(p)n. Is this because she destinys to eat the figs? No, it is because Maman Nainaine told her she can take in her cousins on the Bayou-Lafourche when the figs have ripened. You can see the seasons changing as Babette is watching the figs close, for any signs of change. They go from seedlings to these beautiful ripe figs, often prison terms similar the growth of ourselves. We get going small and and then eventually, after many seasons, we ripen. To a young girl, cartridge pallbearer passes very slow, but to an older woman like Maman-N, ma gazine goes by too fast. As we get older, I feel that we yearn for our yesterdays, and dread the tomorrows. It is unless the opposite for someone who is just beginning to ripen. The author states that Babette is restless as a sing bird, while the godmother is patient as the statue of la Madone.
This shows that the more ripe we are, the better we are at waiting for some social occasion. tidy sum you remember a time when you were young that you had to wait for something? Did time seem to pass slowly? If you had to wait for the like thing now in your more farm state, would it feel the same? I was not given the c hance to slowly ripen. forced to mature at ! the age of thirteen, I feel cheated. Oh how I would love... If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website:
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