autobiography of a bag
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Answer:
I carried everything he wanted to take to his school. I kept the things safe in me and made sure that no one touched any of his things. Every night his mother checked me to watch out whether all the things were organized or not. Every morning his mom kept his lunch bag and water bottle beside me.
EXTRA INFORMATION
How to Write an Autobiography in 8 Steps
Start by Brainstorming. The writing process begins by compiling any and all life experiences that you suspect might be compelling to a reader. ...
Craft an Outline. ...
Do Your Research. ...
Write Your First Draft. ...
Take a Break. ...
Proofread. ...
Write Your Next Draft. ...
Refine Your Writing.
Answer:
I am a school bag. My name is Puffus. I am train themed. My color is blue and green. I have seven zipped pockets. A bag manufacturing factory made me. I was kept in a big bag’s shop.
One day a boy named Abdullah came to the shop with his father. He was looking for a new school bag and decided to take me home. He loved and liked me a lot. Before he had a Dinosaur themed bag but he didn’t like it anymore. So he gave it to his little brother and bought me. When I entered in his house I was in a different room with many toys and stuffed animals. He used to buy a lot of new things. He was a very rich child. He kept all of his books and stationary in me. He found me useful.
I carried everything he wanted to take to his school. I kept the things safe in me and made sure that no one touched any of his things. Every night his mother checked me to watch out whether all the things were organized or not. Every morning his mom kept his lunch bag and water bottle beside me. He picked me up everyday and took me to school. Once Abdullah picked me up and I got stuck in his class chair. He pulled me and I got torn. Instead of repairing me, I was thrown on a heap of garbage. I was very sad. I thought Abdullah was very caring but he wasn’t.
After a few hours, a poor lady picked me up and took me home. She washed and scrubbed me with soapy water. She sewed me and hanged me on the wall. When I was dried she gave me to her son named Ali. He was extremely happy to get me because he always wanted to have a backpack. Poor Ali took care of me more than Abdullah and used me for years.
I liked my new owner a lot. I learnt a lesson in my life that being with the rich is not important rather a caring owner is more valuable.
Explanation:
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