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Sagot :
Answer:
I couldn’t believe my neighbor’s luck. Why did good things always happen to him and not me? It wasn’t fair at all. I knew that I had to do something to make things more equal between us. I approached him one day and asked to borrow the mortar. I could see that he was suspicious of me. I lied to him about my intentions, saying that I wanted to make cakes for a feast in memory of his dog. I pretended to be plunged into sorrow at his dog’s death, even though I had secretly killed the dog. I had hoped doing so would make us equal in our misery.
The old man agreed to lend me his mortar, but I think he was just foolishly too weak to say no. I took the mortar home with absolutely no intention of returning it to him.
I immediately tried to make cakes with the mortar. Instead of the wonderful bounty I had heard about, I ended up with something foul smelling. I was enraged. I tried to use the mortar for a few days, but it continued to fail me. Once again, I felt like the victim. Why must I suffer, while my neighbor profited? I broke the mortar into pieces and began burning it in a fire. My neighbor came to my house at that time. He seemed shocked at the sight of his precious mortar burning to ashes. I was consumed by fury and said to him, “Have you come to ask me for your mortar? I broke it to pieces, and now I am making a fire of the wood, for when I tried to pound cakes in it only some horrid smelling stuff came out.”
Explanation:
Answer: Here’s one way to rewrite the excerpt from the point of view of Shiro’s neighbor:
I couldn’t believe my neighbor’s luck. Why did good things always happen to him and not me? It wasn’t fair at all. I knew that I had to do something to make things more equal between us. I approached him one day and asked to borrow the mortar. I could see that he was suspicious of me. I lied to him about my intentions, saying that I wanted to make cakes for a feast in memory of his dog. I pretended to be plunged into sorrow at his dog’s death, even though I had secretly killed the dog. I had hoped doing so would make us equal in our misery.
The old man agreed to lend me his mortar, but I think he was just foolishly too weak to say no. I took the mortar home with absolutely no intention of returning it to him.
I immediately tried to make cakes with the mortar. Instead of the wonderful bounty I had heard about, I ended up with something foul smelling. I was enraged. I tried to use the mortar for a few days, but it continued to fail me. Once again, I felt like the victim. Why must I suffer, while my neighbor profited? I broke the mortar into pieces and began burning it in a fire. My neighbor came to my house at that time. He seemed shocked at the sight of his precious mortar burning to ashes. I was consumed by fury and said to him, “Have you come to ask me for your mortar? I broke it to pieces, and now I am making a fire of the wood, for when I tried to pound cakes in it only some horrid smelling stuff came out.”
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