I don't like talking about bad parts of my life, but if you're so asking for it...
It happened five years ago. By that time I had already written the essay, and breethed freely. I was walking along the street in high spirits, and didn't think about the reality at all. Suddenly I fell onto ground, and then I realised that I had collided with a man, was carrying a lot of papers. I almost burned with shame, fortunalety, there were a few people on the street and seemed like no one noticed this incident. I helped nothing-understanding man to collect his papers and quickly race behind the corner. Who knew that one of the greatest days would become one of the most unpleasant?
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