Einstein's Brain

ooks on top of one another: fiction, non-fiction, memoirs, biographies, and autobiographies, and it now seemed that sorting them into their respective positions was

is coming to save him and at this point, he becomes a man, but most boys never get to this point and, therefore spend the whole of their life a boy, I don't know what specific time Kamal got to that point, but he matured early compared to his peers; At a young age he already began to see most of the things they did, which he also had been part of in the past as foolish and chi

a little tale his Dad told him while he was still a college boy. According to the tale a Psychology professor once announced to his students that there would be a test in a few minutes and when the time came, he placed a sheet of paper upside down in front of every one of them. When he was done, he told them to flip the paper over and start their tests, but to everyone's surprise, there was no question, only a dot at the center of the sheet, he then told them to write about what they saw on the paper. Each with its inspiration went on to write in detail the features, attributes, and style of the little dot at the center of a white sheet, and when they w

ction on the ceiling that looked much like it wasn't fixed in properly, but then maybe it was just his faculties making fun of him. He moved closer to see more clearly for himself, and as he got closer he realized that it was not intact, that his faculties weren't really tricking him, but instead, were guiding him. This time the only question his head could make out was Why did it happen that out of the thousands of ceiling spaces in the buildings, only one happens to be out of place? But he need not strain that question a lot, all that is required is to confirm, so with the help of the ladder with which books were taken from the shelves, he climbed up, and as he touched that part of the ceiling he discovered that it could be moved forward, backward and sideways either left or right, so forward he slid it and now that part was left bare, he passed his arm deep into the ceiling and swung it around to feel content in it, but at first there was nothing to be felt, then he tried again and this time his fingers struck something rigid, with this he peered into the ceiling and behold, there was a box in it, the type where the man in the Royce had kept the brain. At this moment anyone who came close to him could swear that he suffered from cacodemonomania, because as he tried to pull the box out from above, his arms and body as a whole trembled as a whole, if there had been electricity, anyone around would have assumed the wires on the ceiling had shocked him, but no it wasn't spirits nor electric shock that bothered him, it was simply tension. This sort of

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d to seek his consent and advice, but now if he gives me one, I would say to him “Why do you like bothering me? Because I think his words are no longer useful, I no longer feel pained about his insults, I just think to myself “When you’re done talking you will keep your mouth shut”. When he asks my whereabouts I would rudely say “What's your concern? But when I was younger I was usually worried when he didn't ask about me. His doings now irritate me, his words now seem like a burden, and he is now restless cause of me, calling me around with his mobile phone. When I returned from my trysts, he would ask me “ Where are you coming from? And I would say to him “Leave me alone, old man! Sometimes I wished he wasn't alive anymore so that I could have unlimited freedom. Not knowing All he wanted for me was peace of mind and safety, I raised my voice at him, if he said one word I would say four. While I am ranting, he always remains silent, it isn't that he is frightened of me, it is just because of the love he has for me. When we walked together, he was now old, with his back bent would walk slowly, o wouldn't try to support him, even

cause I am human. This nation is filled with secrets and if you're going to survive, then you must learn to live with them, everything sucks my dear, but then you got to learn not to give a fuck, because a snake that cannot cast its skin has to die. I, I know the secret behind the killing of Dele Giwa, I know the secret behind the death of Dagrin, I know the secret behind the story of Clifford and the one about Sergeant Rodgers. So my boy you could keep one too, just be certain someone is always going to know at last, because the only way to prevent something from being known in this universe is not to do it. This reminds me of a riddle about a pregnant

are you starting to doubt the authenticity of the existence of a God? Are you thinking “Why does he let all these bad things happen he truly exists? Don't think that way my little boy, just believe. There is this story of an old man in a barbershop, while jẹ was getting his beard shaved, the varchar said to him “ I don't believe there is a God”. The old man replied and says “ Why do you say that? And the barber replies and says “Just look outside, you will see a lot of whores, beggars, and unfortunate people all around and God is doing nothing about it”. The old man couldn't say anything and he just sat there till his beard had been shaved and

himself and he was screaming “ What do you stand to gain by doing this? One of the masters, an archer to be precise brought out his bow and arrow and aimed at him, he pulled the string, and the arrow was set into motion, just as the arrow was about to hit him Kamal opened his eyes and returned to reality. This made him remember the time he learned that the reason we always wake up before we die in a dream is that the brain doesn't know what happens after death. This had always been one of the three most baffling questions to him when he was still young, the other two been; Why computer errors were called bugs, which he found out was because the first computer error was caused by a bug, the last and only unanswered one of the three, us a question which every human in history has thought about once in a while in their lives; Why does God come from? Who gave birth to God? And if truly there is someone who gave birth