Mrs. Fu from the school said that after her mother died, she went to heaven.This is because Mrs. Fu is very old, and she believes in heaven.Mrs. Fu wears sweatpants on weekdays. She said that sweatpants are more comfortable than ordinary trousers.She once had an accident while riding a bicycle, so she has a slightly shorter leg. But after the mother died, she did not go to heaven, because heaven does not exist. Mrs. Pi’s husband is a church pastor named Pastor Pi. He sometimes comes to the school to talk to us. When I asked him where heaven is, he said, “It’s not in our universe, it’s another place that exists at the same time.”

When Pastor Pi is thinking, he makes a playful sound with his tongue.He also smokes, you can smell the cigarettes on his breath, which I don't like. I said that there is nothing outside the universe, and there is no other place that exists at the same time, unless you go through a black hole, which may be, but a black hole is a so-called "singularity", which means you can't see the other side of the black hole, Because the gravitational force of a black hole is too great, even electromagnetic waves like light cannot penetrate it.If heaven were really on the other side of the black hole, the dead would have to rocket off to get there, which they don't, or everybody would know.

I think people believe in heaven because they don't like dying, because they want to live, and they don't like other people living in their house and throwing their stuff in the trash. "I say heaven is on the other side of the universe, that's just a way of saying it, and I think what it really means is that they're with God," Pastor Pi said. I replied, "But where is God?" Pastor Pi said we should wait until another day when he is more free to discuss the issue. In fact, when a person dies the brain stops working and the body starts to rot like rabbits do, so we bury them under the garden and their molecules break down into other molecules that seep into the soil and get eaten by bugs Into the stomach, into the plant body.If we dig up the soil at the same site ten years from now, we will only see its bones, and after a thousand years, not even the bones are gone.But that's all right, for it's already part of the flowers, apple trees, and hawthorn trees.

People are sometimes buried in coffins after death, which means that their remains will not combine with the soil for a long time until the coffin rots. But the mother's body was cremated, that is to say, she was put in a coffin and burned, becoming a mass of ashes and smoke.I don't know what happened to the ashes, and I can't ask the crematorium because I didn't attend the funeral.But thick smoke rose from the chimney and rose into the sky.Sometimes when I look up at the sky, I imagine that there are molecules of my mother on it, or among the clouds, slowly drifting over Africa or Antarctica, or as rain falling on the rainforest of Brazil, or mixed in the white snow and falling on some place. place.

146 time is 12:07 in the morning, and the dog is lying in the middle of the grass in the front yard of Mrs. Xi’s house. Its eyes are closed, and it looks like it is running sideways, which is the normal posture of a dog chasing a cat in a dream. .But the dog wasn't running, and it wasn't sleeping.it died.An iron fork used for planting flowers penetrated the dog's body. The fork must have penetrated the dog's body and then plunged into the soil, because the iron fork did not fall down.I think the dog was probably killed by the fork, because I don't see any other wounds on the dog, and I don't think anyone would take a handful of flowers after a dog is dead Prick it with a fork, no matter what cause it died from like cancer or a car accident.But I can't be sure of that.

I walked into Mrs. Xi's front yard gate and closed the door behind my back.I walked into her lawn and knelt down beside the dog.I put my hand on its muzzle and it was still warm. That dog is named Wellington, and it belongs to Mrs. Xie. Mrs. Xie is a friend of our family. She lives next door diagonally to the left of my house. Wellington was a poodle, not one of those small poodles that are often sported in all sorts of fashionable haircuts, but a large poodle.It has black curly hair, but when you look closely you can see that the skin under the roots is buff, the color of a chicken. I stroked Wellington and wondered who would have killed him and why.

my name is christopher john francis booneI know the names of countries and their capitals all over the world, and I know every prime number up to seven thousand five hundred and seven. Eight years ago, when Sharon and I first met, she drew this picture for me: I know it stands for "sadness" and that's how I felt when I found out the dog was dead. Then she drew this picture for me to see: I know it stands for "happy" like when I read about the Apollo space missions or when I'm still up in bed at three or four in the middle of the night and can walk up and down the street and pretend I'm the only one in the whole world when people.

Then she drew some other patterns: But I can't tell what the patterns represent. I asked Sharon to draw many of these faces and write down what they represent next to each one.I keep this piece of paper in my pocket and take it out whenever I can't understand what someone is saying.However, it is very difficult to compare which facial makeup and that person's expression are most similar, because people's expressions change very quickly. When I told Sharon that I was doing this, she pulled out a pencil and another piece of paper and said it was likely to make people feel really bad:

She laughed as she spoke.So I tore up the original piece of paper and threw it away.Sharon apologized to me.Now if I can't understand what people are saying, I just ask them what they mean, otherwise I just walk away.