Question

i need want your comment about this text...

Answer 1

It happened last week at the school door, check-out. You can imagine the uproar. The preschool with plaid babis below anorak and cardboard crowns, running to hug her mother's skirts, the biggest kicking a ball in the square. Other returning home with the backpack, alone or in groups of boys and girls, most of them self, with that air of wanting to be noticed preteen, stomping, shoving each other, unwittingly forging friendships and enemies irreplaceable future, as we have done all. One bright afternoon, as I say, of those that confirm or save a day. The windows adorned with Christmas snow, smiling people moving down the street as if the risk premium were a distant thing that only exists in the newspapers, music of carols, all somewhat true and somewhat false as in ads lottery. And that's when I saw her.
                Was seven or eight years. Blonde, skinny. With bangs and short hair. She was sitting on a park bench with a book open on her lap. Read outside the screaming, with an extraordinary concentration, head bowed, reading along with the index finger, not skipping rung, turning the pages as if for dear life. It seemed that he had conquered that territory alone every inch, single-handedly. Touchingly small and stubborn with his blue anorak and a snack in the wrapper intact albal paper. Safe in his trench as a rebel soldier who is not willing to surrender.
                Watching her I could almost feel the smell of the printed pages, fresh ink, cleaning of artwork. Everything came back to my mind at once, an open door to the backyard of another school, and myself there uniform again, sitting on a step of the stairs, slipping to Jim Hawkins for wearing out from the gate iron-free entry to the territory of the islands to become lost in all the characters of the books I read: Josephine March in Little Women, Mowgly, the older sister of Hollyster, a princess cheyenne, Alice in Wonderland. .. and was that way as a temporary wound later found myself face to face with the sailor of my first novel, Dear Corto Maltese.
                All that thought as he looked at the young, when suddenly she looked up and saw me. She should not give grace being observed, so the view down again, ignoring me as an outsider. That apache petite with scowling knew hold off the enemy. A lucky girl, I thought. Hopefully that book one day save the world of hostilities, as saved me, and at peak times will warm your heart. From simple things depends, after all, luck. The best lottery.

Answer 2

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Answer 3

@mathmate
@MShirzadi
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@AravindG

Answer 4

As in a summary ?

Answer 5

no only comment
like your opinion

Answer 6

As if i like it or not ?

Answer 7

what do you think about that text...?

Answer 8

I think it is too long to read.

Answer 9

did u write that yourself @Muskan

Answer 10

no...

Answer 11

spectacular!!!

Answer 12

has great inner meaning,brings reflection of past what more?can you tell me the author name?

Answer 13

the author name : Susana Fortes

Answer 14

story name? and why did you want us to comment abt it ?

Answer 15

*thanks for sharing anyways :)

Answer 16

so whats your opinion

Answer 17

i liked the text very much!! really wonderful :) short but sweet

Answer 18

need comment minium 40 lines

Answer 19

the picture of the small girl reading lingering in my mind still

Answer 20

o.O

Answer 21

yes

Answer 22

are u trying to make us do ur hwork?

Answer 23

yes

Answer 24

yes ? sorry i dont appreciate that

Answer 25

need help