In My Garden	The Dump	Badminton	Mud
I see - all the beautiful flowers and the apples, not quite ripe, I hear - the birds sweet songs that I almost never hear at night, I feel - the leaves of the trees and bushes brush against my face, I smell - an apple that looks almost ripe, I taste - the apple, no, it's not ripe.	I see - all the rubbish laying everywhere, I hear - a rubbish truck tipping out it's contents, I feel - something scrape across my legs, I smell - all the rotten fish, vegies and eggs, I taste - the smell of rotting things in the air.	I see - my opponents ready to play, I hear - the racquets hit the shuttlecock as it comes my way, I feel- the vibrations in my arm as I hit it back, I smell - the smell of sweat in the air, I taste - the water touch my tongue after the game.	I see- the dirt, I hear - the water touch the dirt, I feel - the mud ooze between my toes, I smell - the smell of dirt and water mixed together, I taste - the mud as it splashes on my face.