1.Ты живешь в большой комнате?
2. Нет, я живу в маленькой комнате.
1.Я так понял, ты живешь в пригородах?
2. Да, я живу в пригородах.
1.А жена приходит с работы рано?
2. Нет, моя жена приходит очень поздно.
1.Хотел бы стать богатым?
2. О, я хочу много денег.
1.Ты работаешь пожарным но это же опасно.
2. Да, я знаю, что это опасно.
1.Ты пойдёшь в садик забирать дочь, и это где-то займёт час?
2. Да, да. Мне требуется около часа.
<span>1. They went to the Hermitage last week. </span>
<span>2. They have been to the Hermitage twice this week. </span>
<span>3. After school yesterday he came home, had dinner, read an article from the latest magazine and began doing his homework. </span>
<span>4. When did your friend return from the south? — She returned yesterday. — Did you go to the station to meet her? — No, I didn't, I was too busy. </span>
<span>5. With whom did you discuss this question yesterday? </span>
<span>6. I have seen this film this week. I like it very much. </span>
<span>7. When I entered the kitchen, I saw that my mother was standing at the table and cutting some cabbage. She was cooking dinner. </span>
<span>8. As soon as I heard a cry, I ran out of the room and saw that a child was lying on the ground and crying. "What happened? Why are you crying?</span>
В общем, ты можешь делать всё именно так, но в итоге будет всё как-то по--другому, ибо вот, как бы, да
I am going to book my flight online
He isn't going to sleep during the flight
how is she going to get to the airport?
the plane isn't going to fly today
they are going to be late
i am not going to stay in the hotel
is she going to need a trolley
(This is a bit philosophical, sorry)
When I was 3, my mom taught me how to hold a brush and ever since that day, the brush is still in my hands. I have attended Art school for 10 years now and I feel as if art is not something I would like to do after school, it is my life. I love drawing people, every single wrinkle and every single stretch mark. We are so alike yet so different. When I sketch a face, I always start the same, but then my pencil moves to capture the shadows of the cheekbones, the emotion in the eyes, the hairline whether it is receding or still as full of hair as a teenager's head. I feel as if what I draw becomes me as if that is what I intended to do since the day my mom gave me that brush. My artwork. I want to do art. No, it is not enough. I want to live it, not just paint. I want to be in it, be the one who tells a story through each line and every colour. No words, just pictures, shadows, splashes. I want to live, breath, drink art; not just draw.