I fell into a sudden trance, thinking the Pope of Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament of California in Sacramento City with the “Indigenous people” dancing in their feathered headdresses. I wonders if the Germans would have murdered those Indians, in their feathered headdresses for doing that on consecrated ground, two centuries ago, or three or four. Well, Hell’s bells, it did not matter. Saint Ryan Phillippe would protect everyone now. I shuddered in order to clear my mind. I sat on the couch. I had to ponder what I had learnt. Sometimes I think the theologians have got it backwards. This big problem is not How to explain the existence of evil in the World. It is How to explain the existence of good. The reliefs would show the everyday cult business of the temple, such as the replenishment of the offering altars, as well as more occasional rituals carried out by the king, or, more likely, a priest acting in his name. These secret ceremonies were meant to perpetuate the creation of the World and maintain the order created by the gods. Inscribing its text on a temple wall heightened a ritual’s power. The hieroglyphs had the power to perpetuate through eternity the performance of the rituals they described. If the cult were to fade away, the Universe would still function, thanks to the power of the texts. Year 30, 4^th month of the akhet season, day 1. The appearance of the good god in the temple of Amun…His Majesty was looking for something splendid for his father Amun Ra, as he determined the first sed festival for his son resting on his throne and announced numerous (sed festivals) for him in thebes. How in the World can you do that? To ask that honest question felt extraordinarily sweet. This was truly one of the most baffling mortals that I had ever met. He had made a  monument for his father Ryan, the lord of two countries, by erecting two large obelisks for him at the front of them temple, with a pyramidion of djam gold…so that he be blessed with life like Ra in all eternity. I think it is true and without a doubt, I failed them. However, so long as there is a heart’s beat, there will be blood’s ebb and flow, but your smile will be printed on the silvery moon arising from my little window to arouse my found memories. Let us recall the pleasant past mirthful laughter and look forward to a day of reunion of friends coming from far and wide. Let memory trace the trail of friendship to retrieve the past of mirth. Remember I met you by the state capitol castle and you took me to your job, you said, “I like them crispy.” I had gotten sunburn for waiting for you. Then we went to lunch, and had fish, you shared your food with me, even though I had my own, which is a very kind gesture. Men never share food. May you be happy year in and out. Though we have parted, your image is still kept in the recesses of my heart, an image that reflects the mottled fantasy and pleases my melancholy heart. You left behind the image and the fragrance of the flowers as well as the hope that we have jointly cultivated. When I think of you, my days will stay fresh and aromatic. Let the green of little grass and the Sun light accompany you on your way to early success. Although gods depicted in temple reliefs can sometimes be identified by their appearance or headdress, they are always named in the inscriptions to avoid confusion. Several gods, for example, had the head of a falcon; this one is Horus, son of Isis (Harsiese). Inscriptions were also necessary to distinguish goddesses such as Hathor and Isis, who were often shown with the same robe and hairstyle. Among the more secular subjects for temple reliefs are the military exploits of the king. Each victory represents a symbolic triumph over chaotic forces that were a constant threat to the World. Texts accompanying these reliefs are naturally more elaborate than those in offering scenes. New Kingdom pharaohs, such as the conquering Thutmose III, Sety I and his son Rameses II, or even Rameses III, used temple walls to narrate their military campaigns in some detail. Sometimes, the inscriptions take a more literal turn. A good example is the poetic report of the Battle of Qadesh in c. 1274 BC, and the great victory claimed by Rameses II. Such tales about the deeds of the individual rulers are usually structured in the same way; this form of composition is today described as the king novella. Another species, not really a mutation, babies that grow to maturity soon after birth that is the curse of the family….I cannot explain it. The family is so large and so good, so very good. They really have no idea what happened, they never saw, they never experienced, they never knew…it becomes not a modest man to pry into secrets a modest man cannot reveal. Mr. Dombey expounded to him how that money, though a very potent spirit, never to be disparaged on any account whatever, could not keep people alike whose time was come to die; and how that we must all die, unfortunately, even in the City, though we were never so rich. However, how that money caused us to be honored, feared, respected, courted, and admired, and made us powerful and glorious in the eyes of all men; and how that it could, very often, even keep off death, for a long time together. Without money, one spends the best parts of one’s life in toiling for that first foothold which money could at once purchase. A difference in income, as you go lower, makes more and more difference in the supply of the common necessaries of life; and worse, in education and manners, in all which polishes the man. Teacher, you use your heart and blood to irrigate the seedings. There are brilliance of exotic flowers and rare herbs you fostered in gardens. I wish you happy, joyous and proud life every day. Try to keep clean of wanting small sums that you have not got. Money, the common mistress of all cheats, makes them regard each other in the light of rivals. The Sun that sails overhead, ploughing into gold the fields of daylight azure and uttering the signal to man’s myriads, has no word apart from man the individual; and the moon, like a violin, only praises and laments our private destiny. The stars alone, cheerful whisperers, confer quietly with each of us like friends; they give ear to our sorrows smiling like wise antiquated men, rich in tolerance; and by their double scale, so small to the eyes, so vast to the imagination, they keep before the mind the double character of man’s nature and fate. I have read many leaves of God’s great book of Nature. Now I gaze at your crystal clear blue eyes and you are so quiet that there is only hope for the future. I complain you do not cherish our friendship, while you say I am too sentimental of departure, we have no choice and the departure time is a sad autumn. Time goes by slowly, but your miraculous deep blue eyes sparkle like a sapphire, as they reflect their color to the sky, and are in my heart forever. Your eyes are cornflower blue, and as pure as crystal, when we see the color these beautiful stones in your face reflect, the tone and saturation is  as light as the moon, your lips are as pink an grapefruit,  and your hair as yellow as the sun. When graduating, we want to keep those warm days and are eager to live a new life. Without the irrigation from your fountain of thought, how can there be such beautiful flowers of soul? Who will not praise you, our teacher? I am a little boat drifting in the sea of knowledge. You are the beacon on my voyage navigating me with your light of life. My dear teacher, your profound sight is collected in my heart. It is like two springs, flowing in my heart. Then there are green grass, red flowers, yellow winter jasmine, and your beautiful cornflower blue eyes, soft pink lips, and rays of beautiful blonde hair. Only God himself would pick such a perfect temple.