En busca del blog perdido: Historia de una pluma

[25 de febrero de 2008, 22.10h.]

Creo que esta ha sido la mejor historia que he escrito en las clases de inglés. Y lo irónico es que no tenía nada de inspiración, y que la idea surgió prácticamente de la nada. Ahí va:

There was a pen which had wrote during all his life. Sometimes, it dreamed to be as the leaves it saw often throguh the office's window: crept as being moved by the wind and flying for an instant as it felt from the tree. Its heart tore frequently since the pencils, the clips and staples mocked of its dream, and the pen strove not to pay attention to it, and kept the hope to fullfill its dream. Eventually it was, because when the pen was worn out, it was thrown through the window, and finally flew an instant with the leaves.