Because of LOVE

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Long time ago, somewhere 15-14 centure B.C. there was strong and famous country-Kolkha in the east of europe. The king of Kolkha was Aiethi. He had two daughters and one san. One of the princess was Medea. Kolkha was very rich land, there were “rivers of gold” as greek historian says. But one day Kolkha`s richness was stolen by strangers.
I think, Everyone heared greek legend about “Golden Fleece”, which was stolen from Kolkha by greek Jason and Argonavts. But they can`t steal anything, without Princess Medea`s aid. She helped Jason to steal “Golden Fleece”. Then both run away together. But the end was not happy. Ten years passed. Jason and Medea had 2 children. But Jason decided to get married again. Medea killed Jason`s bride, which was from Korinto. Bride`s relatives were so angry, that they killed Medea`s children. This is a very sad story of love about first Georgian women. I always ask myself, if I were Medea, what should I do? And don`t know answer yet.
Somethimes Love make us happy, somethimes it bring sadness and trouble. But whatever happens, Love always be dearest feel.
Tell me please, if you were Medea, what should you do? What`s better, be a traitor of home country or traitor of love?




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 1844
Reviews 110
Long time ago, somewhere 15-14 centure B.C. there was strong and famous country-Kolkha in the east of europe. The king of Kolkha was Aiethi. He had two daughters and one san. One of the princess was Medea. Kolkha was very rich land, there were “rivers of gold” as greek historian says. But one day Kolkha`s richness was stolen by strangers. (1)
I think,(2) Everyone heared greek legend about “Golden Fleece”, which was stolen from Kolkha by greek Jason and Argonavts. But they can`t steal anything, without Princess Medea`s aid.



Spell check your work.

1. hit enter again please.

2. Everyone isn't capatilized. And really just spell check this.

Also, where is this going?

TNC
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You may deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of a friend.
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein