The story

There was a sweety home near the National Forest. A little family which consisted of baby , father and mother lived in this house. One day, while they were sleeping the mother noticed that there was a fire in the forest . She saw that her husband had suffocated. She didn’t know what to do, started crying and run into her baby’s room. The fire got bigger and spread to home. The mother had to make a choice. If she hadn’t got into fire her baby would have died. Without her baby, the life would be meaningless for her. So she went into fire.But it was too late .She and her baby died together. Consequently a fire destroyed a family and their dreams. It is not a happy end

INTERNET addiction

Hi,this week I want to tell you about internet addiction.In lesson we talked about internet.I'm not an internet addicted person.But in Metu I get bored much and not have much to spend time on internet.Especially evenings I log in msn and facebook.Rarely I look over news.At Saturday evenings I watch film with my dear friends.Internet has lots of usage.I 'm member of lots of sites to discuss questions of yds and other english exams.I made new friends thanks to the internet.I get on well with them.They are educated people.Internet addiction is a problem for our day's people.From child to old there are lots of addictive.There is no treatment for them clinically.So be careful about not to addict to the internet.

Fog covers everywhere.Fog is over the river,where it rolls among aits and green meadows.The river flows defiled among the tiers of shipping and water problems of a huge city.And fog is down this river.Fog is on the Essex swamp.Fog is on the Kentish hills.Fog slides into the cabooses of collier-brigs.It lays out on the yards and it hovers in the rigging of huge ships.Fog droops on the gunwales of barges and small boats.Fog is in the eyes,in the throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners.It wheezes by the firesides of their ward.Fog is in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper.Fog is down in his close cabin.It cruelly pinches the toes and fingers of his shivering little prentice boy on deck.Chance people are on the bridges.It peeps over the parapets into a nether sky of fog.The fog covers them as if they were up in a balloon and hanging in the misty clouds.