Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson is a memoir.  In the beginning of the story Greg is climbing K2 in Pakistan and he doesn’t make it to the top.  When he gets down the mountain he sees all the kids suffering so he promises to build a school for boys and girls in the village at the base of the mountain.  He goes back to America for a few months and then returns with all the supplies that he got from donations in America.  After he builds the first school he deciders to build more and more schools.

I would rate this book a 3 because I think that in the beginning its really good, then towards the end it was more wordy and explained thing a little to much.  I would recommend this book to people who have a lot of focus because it was really hard to focus on what the author was saying because he talks about one subject too long.

raw sseldne na

sehcnarb emas eht gninrub

sworg

rever

tub

reverrof stsal

taht erif a

seert eht ni erif

Sadness is a rat
A ringing in your ears
A gnawing at your thoughts
A pest
Waiting to be awakened

A shadow that lingers
In a pool of light
You try to run
But you can never escape

Don’t try to catch it
You will become the prisoner
For the rat
Can only be killed by bliss

Life will be hard
Don’t be afraid
Just be who you are
Don’t change

Do what you set out to do
Don’t change your path
Finish what you started

Stars cover the earth
And blanket the universe
rising like the sun

Autumn leafs float by
Catching the wind and
Soaring to the sun

Blue waves break on the
Sandy shore and pound against
the crumbling cliffs

Three years after finding Sparky (the black and white dog) a dark figure appeared at the door and knocked twice.  Sparky put his head down and rubbed his soft head against my arm, but when I began making my way towards the door he grabbed my wrist with his teeth and pulled me away.  I shook him off me to reach for the handle.  A tall, skinny, grey haired women stood on the door mat.

“I believe you have my dog,” she said in a raspy voice.

“Uh.  I don’t think so,” I replied.

Then she pushed me out of the way and started looking herself.  Sparky was in the next room making crying noises.  I quickly grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into the garage and locked him in.  When I returned to the living room the lady was gone and had left the door wide open.

To be continued.

I am from rusty cars

from jazz and rock

I am from the sandy feet and wet floors

hammocks and green flashes

I am from the sunflowers

The eucalyptus whose leafs

that danced in the summer sun

You are warm and welcoming

Blonde hair flows down your tan shoulders

Waves crash down on a crowded shore

and a boat slides across the clear surface

catching the wind in its sail

There has never been a city like you

Free

A red fence runs

alongside bright green rows of grain

that go on as far as you can see to a little cottage

in the distance

over the hill

beside the sun

between

evenley spaced

triangular trees