narrate

It was a rainy and cold night. And there was a lonely child sitting on a bank in the city park. He seemed really like a homeless child. And there was nobody around the park except from him. He was really hungry and he couldn’t bear this situation anymore and started to search something that he could eat. Then he saw a market. But, he hadn’t had any money. He entered the market there was nobody around. He rapidly took something that he would eat. But the shop owner noticed him and accused him stealing something from his market. But, said child that he wouldn’t do anything. They talked for a while. Then the market owner gave something to eat to child. And child promised not to do this any time.

Internet Addiction

Nowadays the number of PC users is increasing. For some people internet isn't a source of knowledge,but becomes an addiction. So,especially families should be more careful about this problem. They should control their kinds about using PC.
The one who addicted to internet,always use PC more than the defined time,and the time passed while using PC never enough for him,and permanently increase.
If you get out of this addiction,you can get your PC to another room which you use rarely,and the times you don't use it,power off PC. Than you can make a plan which show how much time to use PC and when you receive your e-mails...

To Make A House

We tried to build a house in SL.We shared the task. Some of us created the wall and some created the roof. First of all we used the 'build' button. And then selected the tube. Then we selected the size of tube. We all worked together,so it was easy to make a house. Finally we created a nice house...

the second group

Fog is everywhere. Fog is up the river,where it flows among green aits and meadows,fog is down the river,where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great city. Fog is on the Essex marshes,fog is on the Kentish heights. Fog is creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs;fog is lying out on the yards and hovering in the figging of great ships;fog is dropping on the gunwales of borges and smallboats. Fog is in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners wheezing by the firesides of their words;god is in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper,down in his close cabin;fog is cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering littie prentice boy on deck.Chance people on the bridges are peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog,with fog all arund them,as if they were up in a balloon and hanging in the misty clouds.