Предмет: Литература, автор: pavelantosak

Твір-роздум (обсяг – 0.5 сторінки) на одну з тем

Мої кольорові палітурки

Що є цікавого в моєму дитинстві?

В чому сила творчої уяви?

StreamKing: Завтра сделаю

dparhomenko2806: Тгооо55о5

Ответы

Автор ответа: liza6class00

Ответ:

В дитинстві я була трішки бешкетницею, але я завжди розуміла де себе можна поводити відкрито, а де стримано. В мене було дуже багато друзів, ми з ними кожного вечора збиралися в палатці з фонариками та розповідали свої таємниці. Це було дуже захоплююче, саме тоді я зрозуміла що таке справжня дружба. Зараз, коли я трішки підросла, я розумію що такої дружби, як в дитинстві, в нас ніколи не буде. Тоді всі спілкувалися один з одним, тому що нам було цікаво, а не із-за якоїсь вигоди. Ми були відкриті, а не лицемірили, та підставляли інших. Тому я хочу зробити висновок, що дитинство - це найкращі роки нашого життя, і його потрібно берегти!

Объяснение:

Подойдёт?

natalakozak13: ДЯКУЮ

vasilenkonasta56: а это на какую из тем?

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Предмет: Русский язык, автор: altaev1

We didn't always live on Mango Street. Before that we lived on Loomis on the third floor, and before that we lived on Keeler. Before Keeler it was Paulina, and before that I can't remember. But what I remember most is moving a lot. Each time it seemed there'd be one more of us. By the time we got to Mango Street we were six—Mama, Papa, Carlos, Kiki, my sister Nenny and me.

The house on Mango Street is ours, and we don't have to pay rent to anybody, or share the yard with the people downstairs, or be careful not to make too much noise, and there isn't a landlord banging on the ceiling with a broom. But even so, it's not the house we'd thought we'd get.

We had to leave the flat on Loomis quick. The water pipes broke and the landlord wouldn't fix them because the house was too old. We had to leave fast. We were using the washroom next door and carrying water over in empty milk gallons. That's why Mama and Papa looked for a house, and that's why we moved into the house on Mango Street, far away, on the other side of town.

They always told us that one day we would move into a house, a real house that would be ours for always so we wouldn't have to move each year. And our house would have running water and pipes that worked. And inside it would have real stairs, not hallway stairs, but stairs inside like the houses on TV. And we'd have a basement and at least three washrooms so when we took a bath we wouldn't have to tell everybody. Our house would be white with trees around it, a great big yard and grass growing without a fence. This was the house Papa talked about when he held a lottery ticket and this was the house Mama dreamed up in the stories she told us before we went to bed.

But the house on Mango Street is not the way they told it at all. It's small and red with tight steps in front and windows so small you'd think they were holding their breath. Bricks are crumbling in places, and the front door is so swollen you have to push hard to get in. There is no front yard, only four little elms the city planted by the curb. Out back is a small garage for the car we don't own yet and a small yard that looks smaller between the two buildings on either side. There are stairs in our house, but they're ordinary hallway stairs, and the house has only one washroom. Everybody has to share a bedroom—Mama and Papa, Carlos and Kiki, me and Nenny.
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