|When I was a child,
I always suspected that life was like a bowl of goldfish. There is always someone or
something watching us outside of the bowl. He often sees us making fools of ourselves, yet
still willingly feeds us whenever we are hungry.
|My gold fish was dead, will there be a heaven for goldfish? If there is one, I hope whoever is up there will feed him regularly.|
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Copyright: N. Lam 1998