The first time i saw a real priest was in 1986 when I was on an excursion to Echmiadzin, to the holy see of the Armenian Apostolic Church. Before that the church seemed to me something fabulous, non-existent. In the 1930s the last church was closed in Karabakh. My mother kept, in a closet, a portrait of Catholicos vazgen i and that image of the supreme head of the Church embodied Christian morality in our house. The first church to open in Karabakh in 1988 was Gandzasar, a majestic 13th-century edifice in the martakert province. Then other churches were reopened one after another, and it turned out that almost every village had a small church and it was enough to clean a thin layer of dust off them to get their bells ringing again.
All Essay: Short Essay on i had a dream (170 Words)
But in post-war Karabakh the attitude towards the dead is different. For most Karabakhis these dead are still alive. And a cemetery for Stepanakert is just a large bedroom where their family members are resting after a tiring battle. In the courtyard of this restaurant there is a small church, vararakn. Vararakn is the ancient name of Stepanakert, which means a full-flowing stream. The legend has it that some father 1,500 years ago king Vachagan the pious vowed to god to build 300 churches across the Armenian land. He traveled around the country and in the place where his horses were stomping on the ground to warn there was water underground, he would dig a spring and build a church on that site. Vararakn is one of those surviving churches. But for some reason the church does not function, perhaps because it is part of private property as it is situated in a territory biology privatized under the restaurant. This is very much like the history of Karabakh proper, as there wasnt a single functioning church in Karabakh for more than half a century.
Then came the humanitarian aid, when diaspora gifts were being distributed. Getting it also became an obsession for many. And while the common people survived on humanitarian aid, meager looting and some gardening, there suddenly began this emergence of the new rich, these new generals, posh cars and big private homes in my town. To peoples questions of whether it was moral to be building such houses in post-war Karabakh, the then-president of Karabakh and future president of Armenia robert Kocharian answered that people need to feel confident about their future so that they will continue to live. I dont know if people could get that kind of confidence from the sight of luxurious homes, but for sure they could get mixed feelings, having watched the northern part of Stepanakert turn into a huge city gravesite with more than 3,000 young, handsome men. Not far from that cemetery someone opened a restaurant, naming it The living and the dead. At first glance, the name is terrible and it can send shivers empire down your spine, or a flinch of anger.
Maybe about a durable peace and a real ceasefire on the borders where deadly skirmishes are still an unfortunate and almost daily occurrence. In 1993 I worked as a russian-language teacher at a school friendship in Stepanakert. Once i asked my sixth-grade students to write a really-really short essay consisting of just a couple of sentences. I asked them to explain briefly what they thought war was. Youve got two minutes to put down your thoughts and explain what war is, i told my students. I was sure that theyd write about people being killed, crippled, houses being destroyed under bombings. But they started to whisper to each other and finally turned to me party and asked: What is the russian word for looting? Looting, or plunder, is when, under the guise of war, people take someone elses property; something that does not belong to them. For many in Karabakh it became a disease of sorts, an obsession, a source of enrichment, while for some also the only escape from hunger and cold.
People hiding in the basements of houses, mostly women and children, were all together counting the number of Grads deadly artillery rockets of soviet make used by azeris to shell Armenian towns and villages falling all over the place, destroying houses, killing and wounding civilians. The count was usually. Then, while the azeris were recharging their mortars, we had some 20 minutes in which we could run outside to get to a spring and fetch some water. My mother-in-law would come out of the basement/bomb shelter and for some reason start sweeping the broken glass caused by the shelling off the area at the entrance to the house. She kept saying that order must be maintained at all times. Many families lost their homes, many people lost their parents, children, and had their fates ruined by these hostilities. My dream, meanwhile, seems to have come true, as now Stepanakert has a presidential administration of its own, government ministers, even suvs in which these officials drive (or are chauffeured) around the town. Foreign visitors can be seen at almost every corner, fancy shops are full of goods, there are fancy restaurants offering fancy menus, but for some reason one wants to dream about something else.
Essay on my favourite Dream - 639 Words bartleby
Back then, Stepanakert resembled a large town of summer homes. By the accents of those visitors one could easily tell whether these holidaymakers were permanent residents of Yerevan, baku or the north caucasus (Russia). Everything changed in Karabakh in 1988. At one point i even thought my dream was beginning to come true. First there were demonstrations people marched through the city, chanting miatsum (meaning a unification with Armenia) and Lenin, party, gorbachev (early naïve illusions that the bolshevik communist Party founded by lenin and led by reformist Secretary-general mikhail Gorbachev at that time could allow Karabakh Armenians. In 1991, the year that brought the formal demise of the ussr, real presidents came boris Yeltsin and Nursultant nazarbayev, the first democratic leaders of Russia and of kazakhstan. It was also then that Stepanakert became a real capital of a real (if unrecognized) State.
And then also came the foreigners albeit dressed in uniforms of fedayeen. They spoke armenian, but in some strange dialect barely comprehensible. It turned out that they were diaspora Armenians from the United States, syria and Lebanon. It was also then that I started to learn the Armenian language plagiarism and Armenian history anew. My dream came true, but things worked out not quite in a way i wanted them. It turned out that for my dream to come true my city and myself had to go through the worst a war. The city was heavily bombed.
On that special day i won more than just that competition. I won what I had always desired the most. I felt victorious; I had not only gained a victory in the competition but also gained even more confidence to continue my journey to become a writer. So to whoever that thinks that it is impossible for them to start what they aspire. I challenge you to explore your dreams, fight on and persevere as if you were to die tomorrow. Maybe you had accomplished that stepping stone a long time ago.
Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didnt do than by the things you did. So throw off those bowlines, sail away from safe harbour, catch the trade winds in your sails. Jackson Brown jr 538 words(491 without")The real me is interested in writing, i have always dreamt about writing my own novel with a vivacious atmosphere, a protagonist that knows no limits and a few rather upsetting challenges he faces along the way. Jackson Brown jr 538 words(491 without"). As a school girl I dreamed about my city one day becoming a really big capital to host presidents of foreign states, as well as ordinary tourists from abroad window shopping large local stores and dining at fancy local restaurants. But life in the small provincial town of soviet-era Stepanakert proceeded at a measured, conservative step, leaving little room for any expectations of real big changes, and even smaller ones werent anywhere in the offing. After graduating from school many karabakhis would leave for studies in big cities, some of them later pursuing really successful careers as scientists and scholars, military men, etc. They usually visited Karabakh during summer vacations.
i have a dream Essay gesu School
After all, a winner sees the act of winning before it even happened. I decided to start small with my for passion; I was extremely excited when I picked to compete organised by the schools magazine about our class room. The theme was graduation and it had a grand prize accompanied by it, there were 40 movie tickets and a 400 reward for our class outing, what an outstanding sum! Needless to say my classmates gave me a myriad of ideas and we had bonding sessions discussing the topic. I remembered one of my classmates in particular, raised the idea of writing down our experiences in the first day of the school back when we were only secondary 1! We emerged victorious and obtained the prize, but on that day, on which I was to collect the reward, i felt something strange inside. It was a feeling where i felt like my life had reached its pinnacle. It screamed to me you did it Augustine! One small step and youre off to a great start!
But potential is not derived from sitting at home and watching my favourite drama series. Potential is achieve through massive amounts of hard work and dedication with the eager desire to succeed. You need a nation basic medium or as I like to call it, passion. To strive on steadfastly and to obtain what you dreamt the most. If you have a dream and you work towards it even by taking the smallest first steps then you too, have potential. When I first told my peers about my ambition to be a writer, i would receive plenty of derision from them; firstly i would be discriminated for the lack of imagination and vocabulary. But i know that deep inside my virtuosity, you will see a scintillating ray of never ending wonders. I did not keep their criticism to myself; instead I developed the mind set to prove that I will be victorious regardless of their words. I pictured myself signing autographs from people who were gobsmacked by the level of intensity my book has to offer.
I have a dream to be a doctor, too. My examinations are coming up (gce "O" levels) and i need feedback on how to improve my essay! This essay was given 22/30 but i am hoping to be able to score higher marks for. Tell me your suggestions and advice! I will read all replies. Passion, the real me is interested in writing, i have always dreamt about writing my own novel with a vivacious atmosphere, a protagonist that knows no limits and a few rather upsetting challenges he faces along the way. I realise that I do have potential.
Every day he comes into wards asking patients, "What do you complain of?". He wants all people to be able-bodied and he tries to treat his in-patients in a proper way. To operate is his main task. He is a kind and skilled surgeon. Every report day he comes into an operating-room and operates on his in-patients. After each operation he takes care of his in-patients. Day by day he helps them to recover and he is glad when he can say, "my in-patient is quite recovered". Sometimes he advises his in-patients to go to sanatoriums after leaving the hospital.
002 - english Composition - english compositions for lower secondary
I want to become a doctor. I like this profession and i am eager to get a medical education and work at a hospital. It is a good tradition in our family. My mother is a doctor, my grandfather is a doctor and I want to be a doctor, too. When I was a little boy my grandfather worked at a hospital and I spent some time at the hospital with him. He is a surgeon and works in a surgical department. Day by day he takes care of his hospital patients, he treats them well. He is very attentive.