Question

autobiography of book​

Answer 1

Answer:

mark me brainliest

Explanation:

One day, while I was in her bag, a wicked boy came into the classroom and stole me. He erased her name by scratching it with a blade. I got deep cuts because of it and was in great pain. That boy had no interest in me. He sold me at a very low price to a man in a shop who sells second-hand books.

After a few days, another boy came and bought me. He took me home and covered me nicely with brown paper. I felt happy and comforted after a long time. He then wrote his name on me. One day, while he was reading me, his elder brother came into the room. He snatched me from his hands and threw me into a comer. In the process, I got badly hurt and bruised. The boy shouted at his brother for reading me and Went away.

At first the small boy cried a lot. Then, he picked me up with great love and smoothed my pages. I felt happy and got relief again. He hid me in his drawer and kept me safe. Every now and then he takes me out for reading. I have been with him for a long time now. I feel a little old but am happy because he takes good care of me.

Answer 2

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I am made up of pages that come from wood pulp. It takes a long time for me to come to my final shape. The trees are first cut down and wood pulp is prepared from them. Many other chemicals and raw materials are added to it. After a long period of processing, my pages begin to take shape.

These pages are then sorted and piled Many words are printed on them. Sometimes pictures, maps, tables and figures are also drawn. Different colourful photographs are am given a beautiful cover. I feel brand new and very smart the day I am given my final touch.

I reach the book-stall and am placed on the display window overlooking the street. I can watch all the people go by. Sometimes someone stop by to look at me. I can tell at one glance whether or not they will treat me well. If I go into good hands, I remain clean and intact. I live for a long time. But if a careless person buys me, my pages are torn, and all sorts of rubbish is written on me. I feel very sad if this happens.

My main aim is to give pleasure to whoever reads me. I can become a very good friend of my owner too, if I give him great enjoyment. I feel very beautiful and soft when I have poetry printed on me. The language of my text does not matter. All I want is that whoever holds me should treat me gently and with care. I hope everyone will begin to do so.