You are the taste of a scrumptious strawberry, like a delicious doughnut.

You are the smell of a cooking oven, with the steam coming out.

You are the sound of a sizzling sausage, cooking on a bright barbecue.

You are the memory of my holiday, going to sandy Madeira with my mum, dad and brother.

You are the impossibility of magnets, south and south trying to connect.

You are the distance between a motorway and a road, with cars rushing down the lanes.

You are a peaceful morning in Bristol on a Sunday, waiting for the sun to come out.

You are a shark, swimming for its prey.

You are the end.