If I Could Paint The World download full album zip cd mp3 vinyl flac
Refresh and try again. Open Preview If I Could Paint The World a Problem? Details if other :. If I Could Paint The World for telling us about the problem. Return to Book Page. Get A Copy. Hardcover32 pages. Published August 1st by Gullane Children's Books. More Details Other Editions 2. Friend Reviews.
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Rating details. More filters. Sort order. Jun 09, Jazel rated it it was amazing. It is about a little girl who wonders what it would be like if she can paint the world around her in different colours.
She wonders what it would be like if the whole world was purple, pink or orange. She goes to school and wonders if she paints fairytales that we all know and love a different colour like little red riding hood as Lilac Riding Hood or Snow White as Pea Green.
It is a great story that can be enjoyed by children of a If I could Paint the World by Sarah Massini is a wonderful book. It is a great story that can be enjoyed by children of all ages. For KS1 and KS2 children they can use the book for various different fun and imaginative activities. They can discuss what they would do if they had a magic paintbrush. You can use the book as a starting point for Fantasy in Art. There is also alot of alliteration and rhyme in this book and therefore KS2 children can write a story using the same features.
This book is very enjoyable and I highly recommend it. Sep 30, Harmony Derbyshire rated it it was amazing. This story is one of my personal favourites and was used for a sample lesson plan when applying for university.
The story is about a little girl who's imagines that she could paint the world, she questions whether she'd want the sky to be blue and sun to be yellow and then decides she'll paint the world pink and goes on to describe all the different colours she'd want her world to be. This is a very vibrant and colour story that allows for children to form questions and ideas on what they'd pain This story is one of my If I Could Paint The World favourites and was used for a sample lesson plan when applying for university.
This is a very vibrant and colour story that allows for children to form questions and ideas on what they'd paint their own world. The story interlinks stories they may have heard of before, e. A lesson plan that could be created from this story is language comprehension after reading this story, the teacher could read out the sentences in the story and see if the children remember what colour she wanted to paint toothpaste, pandas, bugs, pigs and etc.
This could stem into children then talking about what they would change for example what colour they may want the classroom to be, the pencils, the chairs, the tables and other things such everyday surroundings. This could be differentiation for example, for a lower age group children could have the sentence written and then a circle for them to colour what they would want the sun to be for example, where as children with a higher ability could write the word themselves.
Mar 06, Charliy Fox rated it it was amazing Shelves: favorites. Such a beautiful book :. Apr 11, Library Quine rated it liked it Shelves: junior-picture-books. A little girl recolours her world with a magic paint brush. Aug 21, Philippa Rae rated it it was amazing.
Very simple text which conveys it's message very well. Beautiful illustrations. An excellent way of encouraging children to think about colour. Now if he could just get to that point and ensure his friends didn't die and retained their mental health. That would be great. He had totally pulled a protagonist move and had asked the dumbest and most optimistic question ever. He loved hearing her talk, the soothing sound of her voice drifting to his ears as she navigated around their little apartment.
Throughout it all though, always just there is the forest green colour of pure love he has always associated with his mother. In these moments, when no one was scared or anxious it was a pure untainted colour.
Through it all, that colour of love never left when Midoriya Inko spoke to her son, no matter what other emotion she let If I Could Paint The World into her voice, If I Could Paint The World. She never once stopped loving him or being there for him. With every passing day though Izuku could see as he broke her heart just that tiniest bit more. It made him long for things that he knew realistically could never be, that would never be as they once were.
In every story he had ever read, in every fable, folk tale, song, myth. No matter what he saw it in, it was always there. The thought that bad things and good things happen, because some higher being wills your life a certain direction.
It implied that he was a punishment for his mother, and neither of them liked that line of thinking. So Izuku tried his best to paint it all away and if his beloved hobby brought his mother happiness and joy then all the better.
Because of course they were all dealt their own hands in life, with some being amazing, some that had at least some sort of silver lining, some that just plain sucked, and some looked amazing at first glance, but when you looked deeper you could see how rotten they really were.
But it was their lives, they could all make something of themselves. If he was asked which one he was given Izuku supposed that he had been given a life with the silver-lining hand. Perhaps the most peculiar thing about him was that despite all that went against him, Midoriya Izuku wanted to become a hero. Sure it was noticed, but it was always written off as the wild imagination of a toddler. Coupled with the fact that he had always loved colouring and painting, it made sense that he be fascinated with colours to some degree.
The colours, or similar things to the colours Izuku saw and associated things with, were found in others. There was nothing wrong with the phenomenon itself. In fact, Izuku loved being able to see all the colours and he loved how he was able to view the world.
The fact that his brain perceived the world in a way that differed from the way that they were used to either freaked, scared, or weirded them out, because despite the variety of quirks nowadays, there was still some form of social norm that Izuku just wasn't able to fit info, no matter how much he tried.
It was always for naught. Izuku knew of the rift that had already formed between Kaachan and himself. Which had everything to do with how Kaachan saw him as well as his Chromesthesia and the fact that, with how easily Kaachan let the undertones of emotions into his voice, exposing himself and leaving him in his fear twisted view of the world vulnerable to Izuku.
Izuku, who was usually able to read Kaachan fairly well. Which Kaachan hated with a passion. So Kaachan did everything in his power to stop that. Izuku had attempted to explain this on multiple occasions. He lay down in his bed for a couple of minutes, relishing in the quiet the early hours brought before finally looking at the alarm clock next to his bed. He rose from his bed quietly stifling a yawn, ensuring the bed was neatly made before turning towards his closet, he quickly found and put on his middle schools uniform.
He grabbed one of his sketchbooks and his pencil, spending a second debating whether he should bring the paints today. He checked the clock again. With his pencil and sketchbook held in one of his hands Izuku slipped on his shoes and quietly made his way out the door to the small apartment and headed towards the complexes stairs.
He climbed them quietly. The moon was still partially out and shining and the light cast beautiful shadows and highlights across the sleeping city. Reaching the door to the roof he made quick work opening it before making his way to the middle of the roof. Taking a second to look out over the city of Mustafa he felt a tiny smile make its way onto his face, the faint tones of the early morning sounds bringing more colours to the forefront of his mind.
The colours mixing with the sight and creating a breathtaking picture. Izuku made his way to the edge of the roof, sitting down in a chair that had been placed there many years before, an old little thing, but still as sturdy as ever. Setting his pencil to the paper, he began to sketch. The hours of the rising sun were slowly passed with the sound of pencil on paper and the chirping of the birds as the cars became slowly more active. He worked in silence, a serene smile on his face, his gaze moving from his work and up every once and a while to focus on the object of the sketch.
The lines slowly coming together to show the same skyline that he had drawn multiple times at different points in time. In this book alone, the 13th of his sketchbooks that would do double duty as his hero analysis books, he had sketches and fully coloured drawings of everyday civilians, heroes, battles, random objects he had decided to draw, birds, animals. He slowly got lost in time as he worked, conscious of the sun getting higher in the sky somewhere in the back of his mind but not fully acknowledging it.
He was broken out of the serenity of the last few hours by the If I Could Paint The World blaring of his alarm going off next to him. He grimaced as he started to put away his sketch and sat up from the chair, grimacing again as he stretched out his cramped back and twisted his back, getting all the kinks he could out.
He had gotten through it mostly unnoticed and it was all going fine. And then the teacher had decided that he would announce to the entirety of the class that tiny quirkless freakish Deku was going to try and apply to Yuuei. Great, exactly what he needed, he had been this close to getting through the day mostly all right.
Izuku flinched as his once best friend stalked towards him with a sneer, grey and orange nearly overtaking his vision. You think I need help with the weakass freak? Before throwing over his shoulder, oozing smug cyan, one last parting suggestion. If you really wanted a quirk, maybe you should follow your little notebook and take a dive off the school roof hoping for one in your next life. He picked himself up from the ground, numbly putting his things away with trembling hands, before making his way to the window.
He gazed down apathetically to where his sketchbook had landed and felt some relief in that it hadn't landed in the fountain. Where would he fall? Would it hurt? He couldn't help but imagine what he would look like.
His neck snapped from the fall? His limbs at awkward angles sprawled around him in a poor imitation of a rubber body quirk. Blood the colour of sadness pouring out. He thought of his mother, her words the same colour and the tears she would shed. He jerked back with a gasp.
Feeling his own eyes well up with tears. His hand clutched at his chest. His shirt in a death grip.
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