<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801</id><updated>2011-07-08T01:23:40.860-07:00</updated><category term='Viacheslav Kulko'/><category term='Andrei Koval'/><category term='Dmitiri Vaga'/><category term='Vyacheslav Kulko'/><category term='Alexander Andreev'/><category term='Egor Tilpunov'/><category term='Alexander Yaburov'/><category term='Victoria Yanishevskaya'/><category term='Competetion'/><category term='Larisa Bulash'/><category term='Alexey Sasimov'/><category term='Anna Bulytko'/><category term='Victoria Kulko'/><category term='Julia Duderina'/><title type='text'>Works of Students at ENGLISH4REAL</title><subtitle type='html'>This blog is to present the works written by students of the Language School "ENGLISH4REAL". All the works are unique and original. Please, feel free to read, assess and leave your constructive comments.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-2564989846221249512</id><published>2010-03-13T01:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T06:57:01.970-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alexander Andreev'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Competetion'/><title type='text'>The Bridge</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Alexander Andreev&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://genocideinvisegrad.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/curpija2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="130" src="http://genocideinvisegrad.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/curpija2.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;He walks along the street and thinks, “What will I do with it?” Grey clouds on the sky don’t promise the day will without rain. Strong north wind forces him to be muffled up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a distance he detects a bridge. That is the bridge where he has to meet her in 10 minutes.  His palm feels the rough and cold surface of a gun handle. And this feeling gives him more strength, so he starts walking faster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her hair uncurled downwind. She looks from the bridge to the river and it seems that she doesn’t feel the cold of the coming winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Hi Helen, how are you? – he said.&lt;br /&gt;- Hi Tom, fine, what about you? – said Helen.&lt;br /&gt;- Very bad without you.&lt;br /&gt;- Please, Tom doesn’t start it again. – whispered Helen.&lt;br /&gt;- How can you do it? How can you leave me? What is wrong? – starts crying Tom.&lt;br /&gt;- Tom it is my decision and I don’t want to discuss it with you.&lt;br /&gt;- Why? Please, explain it to me, Helen!&lt;br /&gt;- Tom! I don’t want talk about it! Don’t … Her voice was broke by a shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom comes to the body and shoots again. “In the movies killers always do the final shot into the head” – thinks Tom. The last shot sounds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while Tom thinks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- What have I done? Did I kill her?!&lt;br /&gt;- Yes. So what is the next step? I don’t remember what I should do the next!&lt;br /&gt;- Stop! Be calm… First of all you need to hide the body.&lt;br /&gt;- I don’t want to go into prison…&lt;br /&gt;- Relax, mate! Nobody goes into prison! In a few minutes the body will be hid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is standing over the body. His palm squeeze gun handle. The gun tube is smoking slowly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-2564989846221249512?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/2564989846221249512/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/03/bridge.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/2564989846221249512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/2564989846221249512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/03/bridge.html' title='The Bridge'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-7297903382971845736</id><published>2010-02-04T09:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T09:17:05.975-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Competetion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia Duderina'/><title type='text'>Dreams come true</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Julia Duderina&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Once upon a time, there was a little girl, whose dream was to be a famous singer. She lived in the countryside of New York City. Her name was Christina. She was a great person and a beautiful girl, but she was very poor and hadn’t a possibility to learn in popular schools and universities. Christina’s parents were teachers and worked in a high school. They taught her all the most important things, especially to be a good and honest person in every situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2sAhOTsNuI/AAAAAAAAAMk/C19UVgd-wG4/s1600-h/sing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2sAhOTsNuI/AAAAAAAAAMk/C19UVgd-wG4/s200/sing.jpg" width="168" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;The time passed by and Christina became a woman. As her parents were too old to work, she had to work in the city restaurant as a waitress. It was popular place to have a rest and there was a great piano. When all clients went home and they started to close Christina always played and sang. When she was a child, her father took her to his school, where he worked and learned how to play and sing. He was very talented and Christina had as great voice as her dad did. Her friends and colleagues were jealous because of her amazing voice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;One dark night, when the restaurant was being closed Marc went home. Although he was one of the greatest producers even they had bad days. It was one of them. His car broke down and his best singer resigned. As a person, Marc was self-confident, stubborn and vain. As all heroes with character like his, he was unbelievably handsome and his heart was kind. When he walked round Christina’s restaurant, suddenly he heard a beautiful voice. He stopped and entered the place, where he was hearing that voice. It was Christina. She was singing as usually, but for him it was like a dream. Marc looked at her and couldn’t stop looking. He fell in love with Christina the moment he saw her beautiful eyes, which were full of hope and love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;After this meeting he became her producer and Christina’s dream came true. They couldn’t stop loving each other and lived together till they died. As for Christina’s wish to be a popular singer, she didn’t wait for the world fame, which was waiting for her for all this years. She understood that all she needed is faith. Faith in one’s own strengths, in people who supported one and, of course, in love, because of which one may only live.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Before death, Christina said these words, which became popular very fast:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;P.S: when you believe in something, and believe very strongly, it will certainly come true. All you need is to believe in yourself and you will be happy. Really. Believe me. I know what I’m saying …&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-7297903382971845736?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/7297903382971845736/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/02/dreams-come-true.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/7297903382971845736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/7297903382971845736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/02/dreams-come-true.html' title='Dreams come true'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2sAhOTsNuI/AAAAAAAAAMk/C19UVgd-wG4/s72-c/sing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-6830533429100481296</id><published>2010-01-29T12:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T12:41:38.174-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alexey Sasimov'/><title type='text'>Tips to make your life more interesting. By Alexey Sasimov</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8XozhU2Zh9c&amp;amp;hl=ru_RU&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8XozhU2Zh9c&amp;amp;hl=ru_RU&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-6830533429100481296?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/6830533429100481296/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/tips-to-make-you-life-more-interesting.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/6830533429100481296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/6830533429100481296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/tips-to-make-you-life-more-interesting.html' title='Tips to make your life more interesting. By Alexey Sasimov'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-4552272615067956376</id><published>2010-01-27T11:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:45:02.059-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dmitiri Vaga'/><title type='text'>Denis and Mary</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Dmitiri Vaga&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Once upon a time, when people didn’t know about cars, the Internet, supermarkets and rode on horses, ate primitive food, in some fantastic country, which was called Cornwelland, lived young boy Denis. He was 16 but he was very small that was why all children laughed at him and teased him, also he didn’t have any friends. He felt very bad and alone, but her mother asked God that he would help her son. Mother believed that the miracle will come. In some time, Denis fell for one girl but he couldn’t tell her what he felt about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CQYQIxUTI/AAAAAAAAAL8/jW7BJR5bcg8/s1600-h/bg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="136" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CQYQIxUTI/AAAAAAAAAL8/jW7BJR5bcg8/s200/bg.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;There was a snowy winter. The weather was very nice, the sun was shining brightly and all children were waiting for the New Year and Christmas holidays. They presented some things to each other. These could be some kind of wooden characters, animals, soft toys, which they made by themselves. He also prepared some gifts for Mary, it was a girl which he loved. But he couldn’t give her that toy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day when his village celebrated the New Year holiday he was sitting at home and had a bad mood because all teenagers were spending time outside, they were playing snowball, jocking, dancing around the New Year tree, drinking hot tea but he felt lonely and abundant. Nobody wanted to play with him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His mother looked at his sufferings and God heard her. And he send an angel for her son. When Denis was sleeping in his room, a bright light got into his room through the window and the angel appeared in the middle of his room. Denis woke up and he was very afraid because he thought that his house was in fire. But when he saw the angel he calmed down. The angel said, “God heard the request from your mother and can help you!” Suddenly the angel disappeared and the boy felt than he grew up. It happened at night between the 6th and 7th of January when all Christian celebrate Christmas holiday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that time he was very happy and because of this he woke his mother up and started to danced with a great joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this he got a lot of friends and made a proposal to Mary. And they were very happy thereafter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-4552272615067956376?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/4552272615067956376/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/denis-and-mary.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4552272615067956376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4552272615067956376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/denis-and-mary.html' title='Denis and Mary'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CQYQIxUTI/AAAAAAAAAL8/jW7BJR5bcg8/s72-c/bg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-599613450657672516</id><published>2010-01-27T11:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:44:41.000-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna Bulytko'/><title type='text'>One 'Sunny' Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Anna Bulytko&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;That day was sunny and nice, it was a memory day. A friendly family decided to visit a house, where one year before their best friend, Robert, had disappeared. Marta and Frank got acquainted with him, when they had a weekend off in Florida. He helped them to look after July, their daughter and they had a good time together. From that time they phoned each other almost every day and met together on holidays. One day they called Robert, but there was no answer… from that day nobody saw him, and all people tried to avoid his house… People had a legend, that Robert was stolen by a priest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they arrived, they saw a nice place near the river. Frank said:  «O, God, this place looks like a paradise, oh Robert… why today you cannot be with us»? Than he said louder: «Robert…come back..Robert»!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;«Come down, we have to spend this day with a smile and good memories…. Ce can't bring him back, but nobody will steal our good memory about Robert”, said Marta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the night came, July was watching TV, then she felt a little wind…and then she saw an open window. “Father, are you here?” she asked and felt a hand on her mouth and knife on her throut…Few minutes later her mother heard somebodies steps out of house. She ran out to the yard… There was a hand with a ring, that was the ring wich Robert presented to their daugter. She stard to scream. Frank ran to her and they saw a woman and July’s body near the river.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They tried to pull her out, but she wonted to kill them also… Frank took her knife off and in a moment she was on the grass, the knife was in her hear... In tears Marta has shouted why? Why my daughter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The women said, «I loved Robert very much, but he loved July…I killed him and was waiting the moment to kill July… now, I have nothing to do in my life... I can die» and close her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marta and Frank came back home. They will never see their best friend. They will never hug their daughter. They will never forget that day. But in their hearts there will always be warm love to their lovely persons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-599613450657672516?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/599613450657672516/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/one-sunny-day.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/599613450657672516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/599613450657672516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/one-sunny-day.html' title='One &apos;Sunny&apos; Day'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-4482349801509988128</id><published>2010-01-27T11:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:44:18.442-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Victoria Yanishevskaya'/><title type='text'>She Follows You</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Victoria Yanishevskaya&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;A beautiful girl lived in the city which was called Crop. Boys always loved her. Once a mysterious boy came to Crop. She fell in love with him but he tried to refuse her. She really became mad about him. Finally she decided to go to him and talk. She came to the entrance looked into his deep eyes and disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No-one saw her again but no-one looked for her. Her parents just organized her funeral on 6th day of her disappearance in 9th day everyone forgot that she was alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what happened? He killed her because she saw that he was not a human. But her soul wanted revenge so she lived in mirrors. One day (On her 40th day of the death) she had a lot of power and she killed him. From that time she killed everyone who lived in that time and their friends and relatives. And she is looking for another victim among us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-4482349801509988128?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/4482349801509988128/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/she-follows-you.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4482349801509988128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4482349801509988128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/she-follows-you.html' title='She Follows You'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-6008080968657833311</id><published>2010-01-27T11:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:43:47.633-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Julia Duderina'/><title type='text'>Night Horror</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Julia Duderina&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CNsj3OgRI/AAAAAAAAAL0/ob6f77lojlU/s1600-h/thebeast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CNsj3OgRI/AAAAAAAAAL0/ob6f77lojlU/s200/thebeast.jpg" width="158" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;A few months ago, a young family couple was driving along the road. It was a dark, cold, and horrible night. Suddenly, Dan heard a terrible noise. His girl Jane was confused because she didn't know about cars even the simplest things, but the reason was obvious for him, - they ran out of petrol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They stopped the car and went out. Jane proposed to stay near the car but Dan told her that they had to find a near town or village or even someone, because it was an old abandunt road in the forest. The time past by. Unfortunately, they couldn't find anything that was related to human. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jane started to be nervous, naturally, so they stopped and sat under a tree. Unexpectedly, they heard extremely strong, loud and terrifying animal's voice, which echoed from the depth of the forest. It seemed that it was a scream of a beast. Dan and Jane never heard such a cut deep noise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their hearts almost stopped because of the fear they had. They could neither move no carry on. Young people understood that if they didn't do somewhere and would sit on the same place, they would die. Jane and Dan stood up and started to walk slowly and very carefully without any sound. But after few steps they stopped in fear because of the thing they saw: on the forest meadow, which was all in the moonlight, stood the beast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was something with red eyes what's had a bright yellow shade and with sharp as razor claws and teeth. It wasn't a man but it wasn't an animal. It seemed that he was from hell. Lovers started to run out keeping &lt;br /&gt;each other's hands. Unexpectedly, although Dan felt Jane's hand in his one, when he turned round Jane wasn't there. At that very moment he heard a horrible scream. It was his girl. Dan ran and ran towards the sound really wishing to save Jane but it was too late. He started to shake with fear and his face was in tears. All the glade was in human blood. In the middle of the forest meadow Dan saw torn Jane's body. In despair he ran to her, he wanted to kiss her lips which were in blood for the last time, but suddenly he saw the beast's shade behind him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several days later he got back to his consciousness. He was in a big forest-guard's house near the road. Dan opened the window and saw his car. He remembered events of that terrible night. That day he found out that this forest was damned and the beast was a guard of it. He killed everyone who came in. Man told Dan that he was the first who stayed alive after meeting with devil's son. But why? This is the biggest secret of Dan's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-6008080968657833311?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/6008080968657833311/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/night-horror.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/6008080968657833311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/6008080968657833311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/night-horror.html' title='Night Horror'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CNsj3OgRI/AAAAAAAAAL0/ob6f77lojlU/s72-c/thebeast.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-4711255976535512290</id><published>2009-06-04T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:43:31.269-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Victoria Yanishevskaya'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna Bulytko'/><title type='text'>Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Anna Bulytko and Victoria Yanishevskaya&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CFIxADIfI/AAAAAAAAALs/jVbl3Cn0Plg/s1600-h/plus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="164" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CFIxADIfI/AAAAAAAAALs/jVbl3Cn0Plg/s200/plus.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;She was walking, he was sitting&lt;br /&gt;She was smoking, he was drinking&lt;br /&gt;She stop smoking while walking&lt;br /&gt;And start crossing towards him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Plus and minus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Light and darkness&lt;br /&gt;Angel and demon&lt;br /&gt;Forever and more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angel and demon find each other&lt;br /&gt;They were happy, but everybody&lt;br /&gt;Told that was not right&lt;br /&gt;And all the world will fight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus and minus&lt;br /&gt;Light and darkness&lt;br /&gt;Angel and demon&lt;br /&gt;Forever and more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-4711255976535512290?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/4711255976535512290/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/she-was-walking-he-was-sitting-she-was.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4711255976535512290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4711255976535512290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/she-was-walking-he-was-sitting-she-was.html' title='Song'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CFIxADIfI/AAAAAAAAALs/jVbl3Cn0Plg/s72-c/plus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-7911945603350975314</id><published>2009-04-03T10:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:43:04.454-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna Bulytko'/><title type='text'>A story about a little girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Anna Bulytko&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This is a story about a little girl. When she was a child – animals found her in the woods and she lived with them... animals helped her to build a house and brought her all things for living… She was so nice and wanted to know everything about life. She saw a lot of pictures from real life, where people like her lived, but she was afraid of that word. Once a big tiger came to the woods… he killed a lot of animals and wanted to eat a little girl without a name. Her best friend monkey helped her to run away… She ran and ran…then fell down and fell asleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CANWiHSuI/AAAAAAAAAK4/0ZaNjXTlOJ4/s1600-h/jungles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CANWiHSuI/AAAAAAAAAK4/0ZaNjXTlOJ4/s200/jungles.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she woke up, she saw a strange man…he was looking at her and gave her a hand to stand up. She wondered. He was very handsome…but she had never seen people… she started shouting…but he hugged her and said – “everything will be ok”. All his life he had lived alone… he’d liked nature and thought that he would never fall in lone …But when he saw her eyes…that was love at first sight. They were very happy to find each other. Then they found an article in a newspaper that said that there was an airplane crash 18 years ago and so she was just one person who survived…She lived to meet him and to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-7911945603350975314?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/7911945603350975314/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2009/04/story-about-little-girl.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/7911945603350975314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/7911945603350975314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2009/04/story-about-little-girl.html' title='A story about a little girl'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CANWiHSuI/AAAAAAAAAK4/0ZaNjXTlOJ4/s72-c/jungles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-2870982910337678306</id><published>2009-03-28T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T08:08:53.571-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Victoria Yanishevskaya'/><title type='text'>They met each other …</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Victoria Yanishevskaya&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2B_JedTuJI/AAAAAAAAAKw/0L_iusY2REE/s1600-h/lovee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2B_JedTuJI/AAAAAAAAAKw/0L_iusY2REE/s200/lovee.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;They met each other when the sun was rising&lt;br /&gt;They both understood&lt;br /&gt;That they were made for one another.&lt;br /&gt;She was rich and he was poor&lt;br /&gt;But their hearts were beating together.&lt;br /&gt;That was true love &lt;br /&gt;In real life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They met each other when the sun was rising&lt;br /&gt;They fell the same, they understood&lt;br /&gt;That it was love&lt;br /&gt;It happens only once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were young and fell in love&lt;br /&gt;But they could not be together.&lt;br /&gt;That was forbidden love that happens only once.&lt;br /&gt;He gave his life for saving her&lt;br /&gt;He sacrificed himself&lt;br /&gt;Everyone now remembers and never forgets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-2870982910337678306?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/2870982910337678306/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2009/03/they-met-each-other.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/2870982910337678306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/2870982910337678306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2009/03/they-met-each-other.html' title='They met each other …'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2B_JedTuJI/AAAAAAAAAKw/0L_iusY2REE/s72-c/lovee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-5033334883123653308</id><published>2009-03-26T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:38:54.730-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Victoria Yanishevskaya'/><title type='text'>Acute sight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Victoria Yanishevskaya&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2B9VlhG_wI/AAAAAAAAAKg/O9hGfuL07Ls/s1600-h/eyes.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2B9VlhG_wI/AAAAAAAAAKg/O9hGfuL07Ls/s200/eyes.gif" width="196" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Once upon a time there lived a girl in a little village who was very intelligent and pretty. However she had a very strange completion and she didn’t look as anybody else. She had short dark hair, black eyes and straight nose. She had never dreamt about a beautiful prince on the white horse. Although she wanted to meet her love but she knew that he would be completely different from the other men. Also I want to tell you why she was so strange. Everyone thought that she was a witch because her eyes were deep and acute. If she looked into your eyes she would read your mind and wishes. So she looked for a man who would have a clean soul and good desires.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On her 17th birthday her father presented her a beautiful white balloon. She was playing with it in the meadow of the dark and very old forest. Suddenly, it started to rain and her balloon was taken away by the strapping wind. She went home being dramatically upset and she sat near the window for a week and expected her balloon wholeheartedly. All of a sudden she saw it and understood that it was calling her to go after it. She ran for a couple of hours vigorously. Suddenly balloon stopped near a clean picturesque lake. As soon as she looked at it she remained there forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She stood there since there wasn’t any pure soul that she could look into …&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-5033334883123653308?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/5033334883123653308/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2009/03/acute-sight.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/5033334883123653308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/5033334883123653308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2009/03/acute-sight.html' title='Acute sight'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2B9VlhG_wI/AAAAAAAAAKg/O9hGfuL07Ls/s72-c/eyes.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-4120874090119715282</id><published>2009-02-02T09:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:42:15.782-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Larisa Bulash'/><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Larisa Bulash&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2B-OPR8j-I/AAAAAAAAAKo/87Rcjd5VAEk/s1600-h/love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2B-OPR8j-I/AAAAAAAAAKo/87Rcjd5VAEk/s200/love.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;They were happy &lt;br /&gt;She had a boyfriend &lt;br /&gt;They lived together for some time&lt;br /&gt;But they suddenly separated &lt;br /&gt;Because they thought they found a better love &lt;br /&gt;Twenty years passed by&lt;br /&gt;But they found nothing really better &lt;br /&gt;And he met one woman &lt;br /&gt;They liked each other &lt;br /&gt;But it looked like his first love &lt;br /&gt;Her name is as that’s woman in the past &lt;br /&gt;Now he thinks more about that woman in the past&lt;br /&gt;When he sees this woman in the present&lt;br /&gt;I would like to come back to that time &lt;br /&gt;To see that nothing happened&lt;br /&gt;To see that nothing happened&lt;br /&gt;A – a – a – a !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-4120874090119715282?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/4120874090119715282/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2009/02/love.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4120874090119715282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4120874090119715282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2009/02/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2B-OPR8j-I/AAAAAAAAAKo/87Rcjd5VAEk/s72-c/love.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-5049095167751916067</id><published>2008-12-02T10:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:41:52.671-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Egor Tilpunov'/><title type='text'>There goes the third autumn</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Egor Tilpunov&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CBpTCEv4I/AAAAAAAAALk/grpR-C0U-28/s1600-h/cell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CBpTCEv4I/AAAAAAAAALk/grpR-C0U-28/s200/cell.jpg" width="168" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;There goes the third autumn&lt;br /&gt;I’ve got into jail&lt;br /&gt;The damn cell is rotten&lt;br /&gt;My mind fades away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends had forgotten&lt;br /&gt;So send me the mail&lt;br /&gt;To visit me rotting&lt;br /&gt;Give hope for a day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife beared a baby&lt;br /&gt;While I was away&lt;br /&gt;The child knows no father&lt;br /&gt;But He’ll grow up the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a good bady&lt;br /&gt;Got just A’s at school&lt;br /&gt;With health almost perfect&lt;br /&gt;I was fastest in pool&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best grad from College&lt;br /&gt;The best thesis in years&lt;br /&gt;They said I’m future&lt;br /&gt;Without hiding tears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’d say I was lucky, &lt;br /&gt;But here I’m away&lt;br /&gt;Lost, damned, and forgotten&lt;br /&gt;The whole thing is lame&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There goes the fourth autumn&lt;br /&gt;No difference here&lt;br /&gt;I’m away at South Pole&lt;br /&gt;I’m scientist in jail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from &lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-5049095167751916067?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/5049095167751916067/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/12/there-goes-third-autumn.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/5049095167751916067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/5049095167751916067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/12/there-goes-third-autumn.html' title='There goes the third autumn'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2CBpTCEv4I/AAAAAAAAALk/grpR-C0U-28/s72-c/cell.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-4842088306471719315</id><published>2008-09-12T08:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:41:06.739-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vyacheslav Kulko'/><title type='text'>Moidodyr</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;By Vyacheslav Kulko&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Were you afraid of Moidodyr when you were a child? If you say no, you either have no memory or had no imagination. Well, just try to imagine now a creature that consists of sink, toilet, buckets, brushes... And this creature is alive, it moves and tries to catch you and... wash you to... holes..? Or how should we otherwise translate Moidodyr (Wash-to-holes)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2Bu6DQL4vI/AAAAAAAAAKY/ryu_gZ0ZvIk/s1600-h/moid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="144" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2Bu6DQL4vI/AAAAAAAAAKY/ryu_gZ0ZvIk/s200/moid.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, there was one boy six years old who just investigated that Moidodyr exists. It was not very scary near the mother and sitting on the chair in the park sunny day. The boy had wasted his hands by soil and didn't want to clean up. When mother told him a story about Moidodyr the boy was not surprised, even boring a bit. “Of course, when you waste you hands, don't expect story about gremlins that steal the bad boys who don't eat soup. This story is waiting for you at a dinner” - the boy thought. He knew all mother's tricks very well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a month boy was moved to the countryside to his grandma. The official version told that boy had to take vitamins and sun. But the boy suspected that mother and farther don't love him anymore and want to get out of him. Now he very regretted about some of his faults that were the most annoying for his parents. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the boy rambled by the house and one day he opened the door of the room which resided under the roof. The room had steeped wall (actually it was a roof) with a windows on it. The half-round window started straight from the floor. Faint light spreaded across the wooden squeaking floor. There is only old sofa was in this room... and... It was the GIGA cupboard. It was abnormally huge and improbable old. There were billions of one hundred years old teapots, cups, strange porcelain figures... It was.. Well, it was Moidodyr's boss. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this moment grandma lifted by stairs to this room. She had a brush with paint in her hands. “Oh, you've founded this room yet, good boy. This is just on time, because I am painting you room so you have to sleep in this room tonight” - she said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy cried all the day but grandma was inflexible. So at the evening the boy went to this room. Those evening he dried his teeth as never before, he cleaned his ears perfectly, he even brush his hair what he didn't do never in his life. Than the boy went to the room switch on an old lamp near the bad (the lamp made a circle of light across his bad) and laid down on the sofa. Grandma kiss his and went out of the room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody knows what happened those night. But when at the morning grandma opened the door, the boy was sitting on the floor where cupboard should stay, watching into the window and don't hear her. When grandma touched him, he turned back and grandma saw that the boy absolutely grey. &lt;br /&gt;In a week boy's parents took him to the city, and he became the only grey first former in the world. And than he became a TV star. But he still don't like Moidodyr. And his children don't know nothing about Chukosky's books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-4842088306471719315?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/4842088306471719315/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/09/moidodyr.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4842088306471719315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4842088306471719315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/09/moidodyr.html' title='Moidodyr'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2Bu6DQL4vI/AAAAAAAAAKY/ryu_gZ0ZvIk/s72-c/moid.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-1581483443491606363</id><published>2008-09-12T08:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:40:21.745-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Victoria Kulko'/><title type='text'>Stashil-ka</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Victoria Kulko&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;One day we decided to travel to London.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- It will be great! – we thought and went to the railway station to buy tickets. We bought two tickets and began preparing for our trip. We packed two pair of checked coats (all people of GB dress in checked coats, of cause), two umbrellas (there is always rain, of cause) and complete set of Shakespeare (we prepared to visit Globe). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2Btylw8syI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Dawd5PpzVto/s1600-h/train.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2Btylw8syI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Dawd5PpzVto/s200/train.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;When the time came we went to the railway station and got on the coach. Coach was very strange. It had a very sinister look. Wild stench was in the air. Windows were so dirty that passengers couldn’t see the view. Doors squeaked like a displeased deadmen. Children were crying all way long without any adequate reason. Adults were sitting with absolutely glassed eyes. Some people were sleeping and saliva was dropping on their breasts. Sometime later a strange cripple with crosswords entered in our coach and children began to cry much more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five  hours later locomotive driver asked for free coaches. It was quite strange because the way to London takes more than twenty-four hours. &lt;br /&gt;- It's nothing! – we thought and said «Good afternoon» to the first comer Englishmen. Englishmen went very quickly without any questions. &lt;br /&gt;- We must improve our English, of cause! – we thought with sorrow.  &lt;br /&gt;- How can we get to Globe? – we asked the next stranger with a true English pronunciation.&lt;br /&gt;- Pashka? Globa? Tak vin ge tut davno vge g ne give… - a local citizen answered to us without any hint of English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name of that homestead was Poddon (full name is Gnilij Poddon). You find it easily between Shepetovka and Gmerenka. Or – if bought tickets in kiev ticket office where deaf cashier sits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-1581483443491606363?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/1581483443491606363/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/09/stashil-ka.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/1581483443491606363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/1581483443491606363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/09/stashil-ka.html' title='Stashil-ka'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2Btylw8syI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Dawd5PpzVto/s72-c/train.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-6776537790361606219</id><published>2008-09-12T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:39:56.623-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alexander Yaburov'/><title type='text'>Game: miniFOREX</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Alexander Yaburov&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;You should have following equipment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Banknotes of 5 different currencies.&lt;br /&gt;- Cards with news and consequences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Description&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BsPqrEo1I/AAAAAAAAAKI/NIQuZMPP5BU/s1600-h/bus.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BsPqrEo1I/AAAAAAAAAKI/NIQuZMPP5BU/s200/bus.JPG" width="149" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;At the beginning players receive the equal quantity of banknotes of different currencies and choose a managing player who is to be responsible for the pulling of cards and announcing news and consequences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The managing player mixes cards and pulls one by one on arbitrary basis. Than he reads loudly the news which has influence on the exchange rates between currencies. Drawing into account this information players have to predict an effect on the exchange rates and after then they have to negotiate with other players the changing some money between each other using current exchange rates but minimum $100 in equivalent. After finishing this exchanging the managing player turns over the card and reads consequences which could be of the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- new exchanging rates for all currencies&lt;br /&gt;- default of one of currency&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the “a” cases the managing player begins the next round. In the “b” cases all players drop banknotes with this currencies and the managing player continues the next round.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The game finishes after 16th round and players count their banknotes in USD equivalent. Winner will be one who has the biggest amount of money at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-6776537790361606219?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/6776537790361606219/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/09/game-miniforex.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/6776537790361606219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/6776537790361606219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/09/game-miniforex.html' title='Game: miniFOREX'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BsPqrEo1I/AAAAAAAAAKI/NIQuZMPP5BU/s72-c/bus.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-4436239749606468591</id><published>2008-08-01T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:39:25.355-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Victoria Kulko'/><title type='text'>SKAZ_KA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Victoria Kulko&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BkiEEQVLI/AAAAAAAAAKA/WELwaQlJhnM/s1600-h/girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="158" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BkiEEQVLI/AAAAAAAAAKA/WELwaQlJhnM/s200/girl.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Her name was Nobody but people called her simply Zero. Honestly saying - they called her very rarely. And if to be absolutely honest we will say that people never called her because they never noticed this girl.  Those people were not very bad or indifferent. The reason was in the girl – because in the place where other people had face that girl had only dark and fuzzy blot (such faces one can find only on a very-very old and damaged photos). &lt;br /&gt;And in general that girl was insignificant. She had empty thoughts, she saw not memorable dreams, talked too quiet, did useless things and lived an unnoticeable life. &lt;br /&gt;- It is not so bad… Millions people certainty live like me… Am I right? – asked she often, but nobody answered her. It was because her question was too quiet and too unimportant. &lt;br /&gt;- I am Zero – she used to say. – But it’s very comfortable to be Nothing. All the more, people remember about me very often and think good about me. For example they say: «What a day! Nothing good!» Or: «What a life! Nothing good!»&lt;br /&gt;She had had many empty years and saw a lot of vacuous dreams until one day she met him. At first she didn’t notice him. She didn’t notice him when she saw him second time, too. But in the third time she suddenly saw his face. It was the same like her ones. It was nothing. And it was very strange because she never saw her reflection like in a mirror….&lt;br /&gt;- Nothing good! – people said about that. – Ha! Two zeros! No sense! They need at least one “One” (единичку). &lt;br /&gt;…Two zeros didn’t know what they had to do. That was why they simply took hands of each other. Nothing good happened and made up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except new symbol that looked like this ∞…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-4436239749606468591?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/4436239749606468591/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/08/skazka.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4436239749606468591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/4436239749606468591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/08/skazka.html' title='SKAZ_KA'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BkiEEQVLI/AAAAAAAAAKA/WELwaQlJhnM/s72-c/girl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-1332062499019948454</id><published>2008-07-30T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:38:07.426-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viacheslav Kulko'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Viacheslav Kulko&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BjPMSGvBI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/4aP-_BQv3-4/s1600-h/dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="186" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BjPMSGvBI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/4aP-_BQv3-4/s200/dog.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It happened one day when I was at work. &lt;br /&gt;The phone rang and when I took the receiver men's voice said, "Hmmm, It is ‘Lost-and-found’ service speaking. &lt;br /&gt;Are you mister Kulko?&lt;br /&gt;"Yes" - I said&lt;br /&gt;"We have something for you. You've lost your life".&lt;br /&gt;I had no time for jokes so I said something impolite and interrupted this dumb conversation. Next day receptionist said to me: "Mister Kulko, please come to the reception. The ‘Lost-and-found’ service has something for you". &lt;br /&gt;It was very good opportunity to finish this joke so I went to reception. &lt;br /&gt;I was quite surprised when I saw a messenger. It was a dog. Not small dog, which I don’t like (honestly, I think that there are two different kinds of animals - small dogs and big dogs). It was big, healthy and proud creature. Everyone who see him will trust him definitely. The dog was glad to see me. He raised and came to me as an old acquaintance. There was an envelope on his neck. &lt;br /&gt;I took the envelop and saw: "Read it". There was just one word in the letter: "Enough". &lt;br /&gt;"Enough" I read and took a look at the dog. He was laughing as only a good dog was able to.&lt;br /&gt;"Enough", I said and walls of the building disappeared. I was not scared because I felt fresh air, sunny... It was quite unusual for Wednesday when all things tend to be unresolved and you have no time... You have no time for anything. &lt;br /&gt;Then I saw my wife. She stood on the roof of the neighbor building and there was another big dog near her. &lt;br /&gt;"Hmmm, you said enough to your work? I did not expect it" - she smiled. &lt;br /&gt;Building under her legs slowly became invisible and disappeared in a minute. And... we came... higher and higher... The four of us... And now we are happy without... how does spell that word?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-1332062499019948454?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/1332062499019948454/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/07/by-viacheslav-kulko-it-happened-one-day.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/1332062499019948454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/1332062499019948454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2008/07/by-viacheslav-kulko-it-happened-one-day.html' title=''/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BjPMSGvBI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/4aP-_BQv3-4/s72-c/dog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4707156868781023801.post-3716407794580144000</id><published>2008-05-07T07:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:37:23.711-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Andrei Koval'/><title type='text'>Story from a stranger in small café...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;b&gt;By Andrei Koval&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This story I heard a few years ago from a stranger in small café. It was a small not young man, in big brown hat. The host of the café told me not to listen him, but I was alone and have some time, therefore when stranger told to me I didn’t stopped him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BhnTEGg4I/AAAAAAAAAJw/Z_4NDz4cUHk/s1600-h/car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BhnTEGg4I/AAAAAAAAAJw/Z_4NDz4cUHk/s200/car.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He told me that he had lived in small village near there. He had family it was wife and two young daughters. One time he left his house and went for a job. He went back at night. It was a dark night. He was sleepy. Suddenly his car bumped into something. He stopped, went out from his car, looked around. But he didn’t find anything. And he went on. But when he come back home, he didn’t find there his family. He had started searching them. But nobody was there. It was a complete darkness in the house. He went upstairs and saw lighting behind the door. He opened the door and saw lighting firework of a woman to young girls. But it wasn’t his family. He was frightened, but he wanted to know what had happened with his own family and he asked ghost of a woman what had happened. She answered him that when he came back home he killed her and her daughter on the road and they came and replaced his own family. And they would live in this house forever. Man ran away from the house. But later, he came back many times, but he never saw his family or ghosts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t believe this man that time. I only paid for my coffee and went away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken from &lt;a href="http://english4real.com/artwork.html"&gt;http://english4real.com/artwork.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4707156868781023801-3716407794580144000?l=english4real.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/feeds/3716407794580144000/comments/default' title='Комментарии к сообщению'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/story-from-stranger-in-small-cafe.html#comment-form' title='Комментарии: 0'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/3716407794580144000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4707156868781023801/posts/default/3716407794580144000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://english4real.blogspot.com/2010/01/story-from-stranger-in-small-cafe.html' title='Story from a stranger in small café...'/><author><name>Максим</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10011260687992638538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4SD7I33fNFs/TbcQGC5J7SI/AAAAAAAABEY/cv4lcMtvyFc/s220/maxim_achkasov.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HdaCQ8cbaOQ/S2BhnTEGg4I/AAAAAAAAAJw/Z_4NDz4cUHk/s72-c/car.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
