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Why do you love America?
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<blockquote data-quote="Cornelia" data-source="post: 1219" data-attributes="member: 25"><p><strong>Why do you love America?</strong></p><p></p><p>OK, this is dedicated to USA and my friend smuda. But don't get used to this! <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite39" alt=";)" title="Wink ;)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=";)" /></p><p></p><p>***A letter from Europe***</p><p></p><p>Dear America,</p><p>Once upon a time, there was a little girl living in Roma, 1944. She was only 7, but she already suffered the hard times of war. She was hungry sometimes, she was afraid of bombings, she saw her country going into pieces and blood on the streets.</p><p>It was a sunny June day. She went out with her mom: the war was ending that day. Everybody was on the road to welcome some big and nice soldiers entering the city. But the girl he was afraid of soldiers: she never forgot those big black ones killing and deporting innocent people. But this time... it seemed different.</p><p>Suddenly, there was a big soldier walking right in front of her. He was keeping his hands behind his back, waving a big piece of chocolate. He must be aware of the little girl walking behind him... The girl hold her breath: she never saw a piece of chocolat as big. She looked at her mom anxiously, and her mom nodded. She'll never forget that taste.</p><p></p><p>The girl was my mom. And that's why I love America.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Cornelia, post: 1219, member: 25"] [b]Why do you love America?[/b] OK, this is dedicated to USA and my friend smuda. But don't get used to this! ;) ***A letter from Europe*** Dear America, Once upon a time, there was a little girl living in Roma, 1944. She was only 7, but she already suffered the hard times of war. She was hungry sometimes, she was afraid of bombings, she saw her country going into pieces and blood on the streets. It was a sunny June day. She went out with her mom: the war was ending that day. Everybody was on the road to welcome some big and nice soldiers entering the city. But the girl he was afraid of soldiers: she never forgot those big black ones killing and deporting innocent people. But this time... it seemed different. Suddenly, there was a big soldier walking right in front of her. He was keeping his hands behind his back, waving a big piece of chocolate. He must be aware of the little girl walking behind him... The girl hold her breath: she never saw a piece of chocolat as big. She looked at her mom anxiously, and her mom nodded. She'll never forget that taste. The girl was my mom. And that's why I love America. [/QUOTE]
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