Winter Landscape, part one

[Bassim]

Would you please correct the mistakes in the first part of my text. I wrote it just as an exercise.

From the window in my bedroom, I am looking at the murky winter day. I haven’t seen the sun for days. It is frosty, with the blanket of snow covering everything and blending with the grey sky. Huddled in their thick jackets and coats, people come out of their flats and hurry to their cars in a car park. They disconnect block heaters from the engines, hastily scrape the ice off the windscreens and the side windows and get in. Exhaust fumes curl and evaporate quickly in the cold air, as the vehicles drive away. Many elderly widows live in this suburb. They come out early in the morning, walking their small dogs. I have never understood why they mostly have small dogs who must be freezing, walking so many times a day in such cold weather. I understand that dogs need to be taken out every few hours, but this behaviour of their owners borders on compulsiveness. I have seen them even in the middle of the night and before dawn, trudging through the snow with their pets as if they were constantly looking for something, and I felt pity for the dogs. They probaly prefer to stay indoors, curled on the thick carpet than struggle through the icy snow on their short legs. Those women seem to be restless, bored after their husbands disappeared, lacking company, or maybe running from themselves and their loneliness.

If this were in Bosnia, someone would tell them to find a man instead and let the dogs be in peace, at least when it is so cold outside.
I have watched the same scene for more than 24 years, and I am tired of it. I am tired of the long winters, tired of this country and its citizens, tired of society and the political system, tired of conformity. I will suffer as long as I live here and I long to move away, although I know I am going to die here. I will pass away leaving no children, family or friends behind. My twelve-digit personal number will be deleted, and I will cease to be of the interest for the authorities. The money on my bank account will be returned to the state, and my possessions burned in the waste-to-energy plant and turn into heat to warm someone’s home. My flat will be given to another person in need of housing, who will be overjoyed to finally get a flat after years of queuing in an endless housing queue. I have never expected such a sad end, but the more time passes, the more I am certain of it.
TO BE CONTINUED

 

[teechar]

From the window in my bedroom, I am looking at the murky winter day. I haven’t seen the sun for days. It is frosty, with the blanket of snow covering everything and blending with the grey sky. Huddled in their thick jackets and coats, people come out of their flats and hurry to their cars in the car park. They disconnect block heaters from the engines, hastily scrape the ice off the windscreens and the side windows and get in. Exhaust fumes curl and evaporate quickly in the cold air, as the vehicles drive away. Many elderly widows live in this suburb. They come out early in the morning, walking their small dogs. I have never understood why they mostly have small dogs who must be freezing, going for walks [STRIKE]walking[/STRIKE] so many times a day in such cold weather. I understand that dogs need to be taken out regularly, [STRIKE]every few hours,[/STRIKE] but this behaviour of their owners borders on compulsiveness. I have seen them even in the middle of the night and before dawn, trudging through the snow with their pets as if they were constantly looking for something, and I felt pity for the dogs. They probably prefer to stay indoors, curled on the thick carpet than struggle through the icy snow on their short legs. Those women seem to be restless, bored after their husbands disappeared, lacking company, or maybe running from themselves and their loneliness.

If this were in Bosnia, someone would tell them to find a man instead and let the dogs be in peace, at least when it is so cold outside.
I have watched the same scene for more than 24 years, and I am tired of it. I am tired of the long winters, tired of this country and its citizens, tired of society and the political system, tired of conformity. I will suffer as long as I live here, and I long to move away, although I know I am going to die here. I will pass away leaving no children, family or friends behind. My twelve-digit personal number will be deleted, and I will cease to be even a statistic. [STRIKE]of the interest for the authorities.[/STRIKE] The money [STRIKE]on[/STRIKE] in my bank account will be returned to the state, and my possessions burned in the waste-to-energy plant and turned into heat to warm someone’s home. My flat will be given to another person in need of housing, who will be overjoyed to finally get a flat after years of queuing in an endless housing queue. I have never expected such a sad end, but the more time passes, the more I am certain of it.
TO BE CONTINUED

.

 

[Tarheel]

I would say:

If this were Bosnia...