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Some years ago, writing in my diary used to be a usual activity.I would return from school and spend the expected half hour recording the day'sevents, feelings, and impressions in my little blue diary. I did not reallyneed to express my emotions by way of words, but I gained a certainsatisfaction from seeing my experiences forever recorded on paper. After all,isn't accumulating memories a way of preserving the past?

When I was thirteen years old, I went on a long journey on footin a great valley, well equipped with pens, a diary, and a camera. During thetrip, I was busy recording every incident, name and place I came across. I feltproud to be spending my time productively, dutifully preserving for futuregenerations a detailed description of my travels. On my last night there, Iwandered out of my tent, diary in hand. The sky was clear and lit by the glareof the moon, and the walls of the valley looked threatening behind their screenof shadows. I automatically took out my pen...

At that point, I understood that nothing I wrote could evermatch or replace the few seconds I allowed myself to experience the dramaticbeauty of the valley. All I remembered of the previous few days were the dullcharacterizations I had set down in my diary.

Now, I only write in my diary when I need to write down aspecial thought or feeling. I still love to record ideas and quotations thatstrike me in books, or observations that are particularly meaningful. I takepictures, but not very often only of objects I find really beautiful. I'm nolonger blindly satisfied with having something to remember when I grow old. Irealize that life will simply pass me by if I stay behind the camera, busypreserving the present so as to live it in the future.

I don't want to wake up one day and have nothing but a pile ofpictures and notes. Maybe I won't have as many exact representations of peopleand places; maybe I'll forget certain facts, but at least the experiences willalways remain inside me. I don't live to make memories--I just live, and thememories form themselves.

—Certainly. In the principal's office. They ________ happily at that time.

    What do you do at weekends? Some people like to 1 at home, but others like to go for a walk 2 have a picnic. My friend Jack works hard in a factory during the 3. At weekends he always4the same thing. On Saturday he 5 his car and on 6 he takes his family to a nearby village. His uncle and aunt have a farm there. It isn't a 7 one, but there's always 8 to do. The children help with the animals and give them their 9, Jack and his wife help in the fields. At the end of the day, they are all 10 and Jack's aunt gives them a big meal.