МГИМО / ДВИ по Английскому языку / Задание 2 / Выберите наиболее подходящее слово
МГИМО ДВИ / Заполните пропуски недостающим словом (артиклем, предлогом, местоимением, именем существительным, прилагательным, глаголом и т.д.), являющимся единственно правильным по смыслу и соответствующим грамматическим нормам английского языка
Fill in the gaps with the missing word (noun, adjective, verb, article, preposition, pronoun, etc.), which is the only correct one in meaning and corresponds to the grammatical norms of the English language.
The Text (30 gaps)
When I first arrived in the remote mountain village, I was struck by how the landscape seemed almost to breathe, as though every rock and tree were conscious of my presence. The silence was profound, broken only by the occasional cry of a bird that echoed (1)__ the cliffs. The villagers, though initially wary of strangers, welcomed me with a courtesy that felt (2)__ if out of another century.
My purpose there was ostensibly to write about their folklore, yet I soon realized that the project was less about cataloguing tales and more about immersing myself (3)__ a worldview where myth and reality overlapped seamlessly. Each evening, after the sun dipped (4)__ the horizon, families gathered by the fire to recount stories whose origins were as old as the mountains themselves. I was told, in a whisper, that some legends were not meant to be spoken (5)__ outsiders, for fear that the very act of telling might awaken forces better left (6)__.
What fascinated me most was the villagers’ unyielding determination to (7)__ to their principles, even when practicality might have suggested compromise. In a world where convenience often trumps tradition, their stance struck me as both admirable and, at times, a (8)__ task. They worked the land not for profit but for continuity, believing themselves to be temporary custodians rather than absolute (9)__.
Yet it was not merely tradition that bound them together; it was also their remarkable resilience. One elderly man, who had been (10)__ of his duties after an accident decades ago, still contributed by teaching children how to interpret the subtle signs of nature: the way a sudden stillness in the forest foretold an approaching storm, or how the shape of a cloud might signal a change (11)__ the wind.
Despite their modest means, the villagers radiated a quiet dignity. They were not immune to hardship—indeed, I saw many who had to (12)__ into their savings after a poor harvest—but they rarely complained. Instead, they found solace in community, in helping one another to run the countless small (13)__ that kept daily life functioning smoothly.
The nights, however, told a different story. Shadows seemed longer, sounds sharper. More than once, I was jolted awake by the dogs barking furiously, as though attempting to (14)__ off an intruder invisible to the human eye. On such nights, the atmosphere thickened, and I felt that the veil (15)__ the tangible and the intangible grew perilously thin.
It was during one of these nights that I, too, felt something uncanny. While walking along the narrow path towards the river, I was suddenly overcome by a sensation difficult to put into words—part dread, part awe—as if unseen hands sought to (16)__ me by the nose towards some revelation. I paused, scarcely (17) __ , until the feeling subsided. The next morning, when I tried to describe the experience, the villagers merely nodded, as though what had happened to me was neither unusual (18) __ unexpected.
As weeks turned into months, I found myself increasingly reluctant to leave. What had begun as an assignment was morphing into a profound education in humility, patience, and belonging. When at last I was offered a position back in the city—an opportunity many would have leapt (19) __ —I hesitated. The prospect of (20) __ a new job in an environment of haste and noise felt hollow compared to the slow, deliberate rhythm of village life.
And yet, duty called. On the morning of my departure, the entire village accompanied me to the edge of the valley. Their farewell was neither elaborate nor theatrical; it consisted simply of warm embraces and words sparing (21)__ number but abundant in sincerity. As I turned to leave, one of the children suddenly burst (22)__ laughter, breaking the solemn mood and reminding us all that even endings can carry the seed of joy.
The descent was slow, and with each step, memories crowded in: the faces illuminated by firelight, the cadence of songs rising (23)__ the night air, the lessons whispered in half-forgotten dialects. It occurred to me that memory itself was a kind of inheritance—one that could neither be bought (24)__ stolen.
When I reached the city, I was startled by how quickly its noise seemed to erode my newly acquired calm. The streets bustled, neon lights clamoured for attention, and strangers jostled (25)__ one another without apology. The very air felt saturated with urgency. I tried to throw myself back into the current of urban life, but every errand I ran felt oddly (26)__ of meaning, every conversation punctuated by a faint sense of absence.
I had assumed that time would dull the sharpness of nostalgia, but instead it sharpened it. Letters from the village—rare, halting, written on yellowing paper—were treasured like talismans. In quieter hours, I would (27)__ them repeatedly, as if rereading could somehow bridge the distance.
The more I reflected, the clearer it became that the village had left an indelible imprint on me. Its lessons, subtle yet profound, had reshaped my very conception of value. I realized that wealth resided not in accumulation but in connection, not in applause but in authenticity. To forget this would be to (28)__ myself of the very essence of what it means to belong.
So I carry their voices with me still. They surface in unexpected moments—while standing in a crowded street, while pausing on a bridge at dusk, while listening to the rustle of leaves in a park. And in those moments, I am reminded that the greatest journeys never truly (29 __ ; they echo, they reverberate, they reshape us. The village remains, not as a postcard memory, but as a living presence—an unseen companion that walks beside me, urging me always to (30) __ to the principles I once witnessed on that quiet mountainside. ★
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