fallacy of of a writer

Traveling to America was my dream since my childhood. I always wondered how can i have this opprtunity. Every night, i took a pen and started to describe the landscape, people, and even streets. When i grow up, i rely on my self and work my best to achieve my dream. Indeed, i become a young activist in my society. I write articles about my association's achievements. Fortunately, i had the chance to visit America in an exchange program. I cannot describe my pleasure. When i arrived, i took my pen and write down every single details as the name of streets, the shape of towns and so on. I tended to match between my childish description and reality. IN fact, it was a heaven. Visiting the golden land left its impact within my soul.