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Journalism

Don't cry over spilt milk

03 May 2010
by Ani Aghababyan

Time is passing by taking life with it, taking the good and bad things, and leaving only memories...
I was playing in the courtyard, running around with my friends, climbing the neighbour's apricot tree and picking the unripened fruits. Then, throwing a naughty glance towards the neighbour's entrance, I would run away with my friends, laughing loudly. We were so happy, despite the fact that we had done something bad.
Time has passed. All day there are books, and more books, classes, I cannot breathe freely. The wind blew away the curtains and I could see the courtyard... I remembered the broken door of the car, which we had taken and made into a home, I remembered that willow tree, on which we hadn't left a branch, we had broken them all off to make curtains for our little home, which were ruined by going in and out each time. I remember how my mother used to bring me home with such difficulty, but I would still escape from the balcony. Then I would be not be allowed out of the house for one week. Oh, how I wish that my mother would punish me now for that reason...

Time is passing by taking life with it, taking the good and bad things, and leaving only memories...
I was playing in the courtyard, running around with my friends, climbing the neighbour's apricot tree and picking the unripened fruits. Then, throwing a naughty glance towards the neighbour's entrance, I would run away with my friends, laughing loudly. We were so happy, despite the fact that we had done something bad.
Time has passed. All day there are books, and more books, classes, I cannot breathe freely. The wind blew away the curtains and I could see the courtyard... I remembered the broken door of the car, which we had taken and made into a home, I remembered that willow tree, on which we hadn't left a branch, we had broken them all off to make curtains for our little home, which were ruined by going in and out each time. I remember how my mother used to bring me home with such difficulty, but I would still escape from the balcony. Then I would be not be allowed out of the house for one week. Oh, how I wish that my mother would punish me now for that reason...

15 years old