The Life Of A Newspaper

Hello, friends, I am a newspaper and let me tell you about my short life. I was printed at night with all the articles of the day. I was just a thin paper but those words that came on me bought life to me. I was full of colors. I was given the next day to an old man by a person who threw me to his house. The old man’s house was on the second floor and once he threw me in the air I was sure that once I would fall I would be no more but luckily that man threw me just outside the person’s house. Though I got some hurt I was fine. I was there early morning surviving in the cold. Soon the old man came.

Right now I am in his hands. This is th

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e fifth time he is reading me, for I think he loves to read the newspaper or maybe because he misses out on some of the important information every time. Also, I think he can’t see much properly for he is wearing glasses and he is sitting outside on a chair in the fresh environment and the light breeze.

    

I hope in the future I am not thrown out in the backyard with all the other old newspapers as I have heard from others. I don’t want dust to cover me or a person to tear me. I want that this person gives me to a person who can recycle me and make me into a paper bag so that I can live longer and help this environment.