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My heaven.

As an atheist, I have always wondered why the religious believe in a concept of heaven where they get to do everything they cannot or are not allowed to do while alive. To each their own, I guess.

You want to know my idea of heaven? Well, it will take a bit of work, but here it is: Find a good woman who’s willing to make a baby with you, hope for (and get) a baby girl, buy a motorcycle, wake up (and wake the baby girl gently my hugging her and singing) early on a winter’s morning, get her fed (a banana, in this case) and dressed to run, watch as she sits pillion on the bike, ask her to hold on to you, and then, observe as her tiny little arms wrap themselves around your belly and she says, ‘Let’s go, Mr Baba’.

That feeling of those arms on your midriff, that tinkling voice, that trust that she puts in you as she hugs you? That’s heaven.

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