william saroyan
this story is about two poor Armenian boys who belong to a tribe whose hallmarks are trust honesty.
One day back in the good old days when i was nine and the world was full of every imaginable kind of magnificence, and life was still a delightful and mysterious dream, my cousin Mourad, who was considered crazy by everybody who knew him except me, came to my house at four in the morning and woke me up tapping on the window of my room.
Aram, he said.
I jumped out of bed and looked out of the window.
I couldn't believe what I saw.
it wasn't morning yet, but it was summer and and with daybreak not many minutes around the corner of the world it was light enough for me to know i wasn't dreaming.
My cousin Mourad was sitting on a beautiful white horse.
I stuck my head out of the window and rubbed my eyes.
Yes, he said in Armenian. It's a horse. You're not dreaming. make it quick if you want to ride.
I know my cousin Mourad enjoyed being alive more than anybody else who had ever fallen into the world by mistake, but this was more than even I could believe.
In the first place. my earliest memories had been memories of horses and my first longings had been longings to ride.
This was the wonderful part.
in the second place, we were poor.
This was the part that wouldn't permit me to believe what i saw.
We were poor, we had no money, Our whole was poverty-stricken. Every branch of the garoghlanian' family was living in the most amazing and comical poverty in the world. Nobody could understand where we ever got money enough to keep us with food in our bellies, not even the old man in the family.most important of all,
Aram, he said.
I jumped out of bed and looked out of the window.
I couldn't believe what I saw.
it wasn't morning yet, but it was summer and and with daybreak not many minutes around the corner of the world it was light enough for me to know i wasn't dreaming.
My cousin Mourad was sitting on a beautiful white horse.
I stuck my head out of the window and rubbed my eyes.
Yes, he said in Armenian. It's a horse. You're not dreaming. make it quick if you want to ride.
I know my cousin Mourad enjoyed being alive more than anybody else who had ever fallen into the world by mistake, but this was more than even I could believe.
In the first place. my earliest memories had been memories of horses and my first longings had been longings to ride.
This was the wonderful part.
in the second place, we were poor.
This was the part that wouldn't permit me to believe what i saw.
We were poor, we had no money, Our whole was poverty-stricken. Every branch of the garoghlanian' family was living in the most amazing and comical poverty in the world. Nobody could understand where we ever got money enough to keep us with food in our bellies, not even the old man in the family.most important of all,
Hello, my name is Jack Sparrow. I'm a 50 year old self-employed Pirate from the Caribbean. 
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