It was very late and everyone had left the cafe except an old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light. In the day time the street was dusty, but at night the dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the cafe knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on him.

     “Last week he tried to commit suicide,” one waiter said. “Why?” “He was in despair.” “What about?” “Nothing.” “How do you know it was nothing?” “He has plenty of money.”

    They sat together at a table that was close against the wall near the door of the cafe and looked at the terrace where the tables were all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind. A girl and a soldier went by in the street. The street light shone on the brass number on his collar. The girl wore no head covering and hurried beside him.

     “The guard will pick him up,” one waiter said. “What does it matter if he gets what he's after?” “He had better get off the street now. The guard will get him. They went by five minutes ago.”

    The old man sitting in the shadow rapped on his saucer with his glass. The younger waiter went over to him.

     “What do you want?” The old man looked at him. “Another brandy,” he said.

     “You'll be drunk,” the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away.

     “He'll stay all night,” he said to his colleague. “I'm sleepy now. I never get into bed before three o'clock. He should have killed himself last week.”

    The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from the counter inside the cafe and marched out to the old man's table. He put down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy.

     “You should have killed yourself last week,” he said to the deaf man. The old man motioned with his finger. “A little more,” he said. The waiter poured on into the glass so that the brandy slopped over and ran down the stem into the top saucer of the pile. “Thank you,” the old man said. The waiter took the bottle back inside the cafe.He sat down at the table with his colleague again.

     “He's drunk now,” he said. “He's drunk every night.” “What did he want to kill himself for?” “How should I know.” “How did he do it?” “He hung himself with a rope.” “Who cut him down?” “His niece.” “Why did they do it?” “Fear for his soul.” “How much money has he got?” “He's got plenty.” “He must be eighty years old.” “Anyway I should say he was eighty.” “I wish he would go home.I never get to bed before three o'clock. What kind of hour is that to go to bed?” “He stays up because he likes it.” “He's lonely. I'm not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me.” “He had a wife once too.” “A wife would be no good to him now.” “You can't tell. He might be better with a wife.” “His niece looks after him.You said she cut him down.” “I know.” “I wouldn't want to be that old.An old man is a nasty thing.” “Not always.This old man is clean.He drinks without spilling.Even now, drunk.Look at him.” “I don't want to look at him.I wish he would go home.He has no regard for those who must work.”

    The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over at the waiters.

     “Another brandy,” he said, pointing to his glass.The waiter who was in a hurry came over.

     “Finished,” he said, speaking with that omission of syntax stupid people employ when talking to drunken people or foreigners. “No more tonight. Close now.”

     “Another,” said the old man.

     “No. Finished.” The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a towel and shook his head.

    The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leather coin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a peseta tip. The waiter watched him go down the street, a very old man walking unsteadily but with dignity.

     “Why didn't you let him stay and drink?” the unhurried waiter asked. They were putting up the shutters. “It is not half past two.” “I want to go home to bed.” “What is an hour?” “More to me than to him.” “An hour is the same.” “You talk like an old man yourself.He can buy a bottle and drink at home.” “It's not the same.” “No, it is not,” agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry. “And you? You have no fear of going home before your usual hour?” “Are you trying to insult me?” “No, hombre, only to make a joke.”

     “No,” the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from pulling down the metal shutters.“I have confidence.I am all confidence.” “You have youth, confidence, and a job,” the older waiter said.“You have everything.” “And what do you lack?” “Everything but work.” “You have everything I have.” “No.I have never had confidence and I am not young.” “Come on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up.” “I am of those who like to stay late at the cafe,” the older waiter said.“With all those who do not want to go to bed.With all those who need a light for the night.” “I want to go home and into bed.” “We are of two different kinds,” the older waiter said.He was now dressed to go home.“It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be someone who needs the cafe.” “Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long.” “You do not understand.This is a clean and pleasant cafe.It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves.”

“Good night,” said the younger waiter.

     “Good night,” the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself. It was the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant. You do not want music.Certainly you do not want music.Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that is provided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not a fear or dread. It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada.

    He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.

     “What's yours?” asked the barman.

     “Nada.” “Otro loco mas,” said the barman and turned away.

     “A little cup,” said the waiter.

    The barman poured it for him.

     “The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished,” the waiter said.

    The barman looked at him but did not answer.It was too late at night for conversation.

     “You want another copita?” the barman asked.

     “No, thank you,” said the waiter and went out.He disliked bars and bodegas.A clean, well-lighted cafe was a very different thing.Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room.He would lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep.After all, he said to himself, it's probably only insomnia. Many must have it.

    Fikiri Kiponda's path from accountant to marine (海洋的) conservationist was sparked by a chance encounter.    After securing his dream job, Kiponda decided he wanted more. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for until he ran across some turtle hatchlings.

    He didn't know it was turtle. Fortunately enough he got the right person to ask and he got motivated. That person was Nkindi, a staff member at the Watamu Conservation project who later invited him to volunteer on the project. He later left his accounting job and fully devoted himself into the world of sea turtles. Now，he runs and spends his time nursing critically endangered sea turtles back to health.

    Sea turtles have been around for nearly 110 million years and are now considered highly endangered. Their preservation rests on activities of conservationists such as Kiponda as these turtles face numerous threats and signs of their extinction in the next 50 years.

    Local fishermen traditionally catch them to supplement their own low catch rates and sell them for their oil. As changes are made to accommodate more hotels for tourists, there is less available beach land for turtle nesting.

    Kiponda's passion has now spread to his community, changing their attitude towards sea life preservation with his “by-catch release programme.”

    Through this program, fishermen are now paid for returning turtles accidentally caught in their fishing nets. The healthy ones are tagged and released into the marine park while he takes care of sick and injured turtles back to health.

    Before the launch of pioneering spirit like this, turtles caught by fishermen were used for their meat and their oil extracted (提炼) for its medicinal properties.

    “Releasing the turtle back into the ocean is a very good feeling, like, you feel like you've done something concrete and I guess everybody would love to do that...so I guess it's unique work.”

    At 2:30 on December 5,1945, five US Navy training planes took off in clear weather from the base Lauderdale, Florida. The planes flew cast over the coast...and disappeared. The group was Flight 19, on a run between Florida and Bahamas. Tailor was the group leader. At about 3:40, Tailor reported that his compasses were not reading properly. The other planes followed their leaders aimlessly, first east, then west, then northeast over the ocean, as Tailor tried to make sure of the direction by radio. Then, suddenly Tailor was heard to give orders to dive...

    Quickly, two giant Martin seaplanes were sent up to search for Flight 19. Several hours later, the wind became strong and visibility (能见度) dropped. A return to base was ordered. But only one of the Martin seaplanes landed. Four days later, the Navy and Coast Guard combed a 100,000 square miles area with more than 100 planes and ships. No sign was ever shown of the missing planes.

Today, people have noted the disappearance of many ships and planes in the southwest part of the North Atlantic and began to call this area the Bermuda Triangle(百慕大三角区).

    The points of the triangle are Bermuda, Puerto Rico and a spot in the Gulf of Mexico, west of Florida. It is a two-faced water world of tiny islands, bright beaches and beautiful waters. Yet thick fogs, powerful currents(激流) and sudden storms are hidden behind this smiling surface.

    It had been a long winter. Bitter cold, snowy days had hit us again and again. On the warmer days there had been little sunshine, but only cold, icy rain. The sun had become such a rare sight that I had to look at a picture of it on my wall calendar from time to time to remember what it looked like. The grass had remained brown and dormant（潜伏的）in the grassland. My own backyard had turned into a muddy mess that tried to steal the shoes right off my feet as I walked on it. My heart ached and longed for spring, and my own good cheer had trouble rising up against the continuous, cold, gray days.

    The rain poured down on me as I walked my dogs, holding their leashes in my icy fingers. I looked up at the sky hoping to see the sun smiling down with its warm, golden face. But it was no use. It was then, however, that I saw it. It wasn't the smiling face of the sun in the sky but a little, yellow face peeking（微露出） through the mud. It was a tiny flower, and it filled my heart with hope and joy. I smiled and thanked God for this little sign that winter would soon be over and that spring would arrive. I felt my good cheer rising up at last and I promised God that I would share it with everyone I could.

    One day that tiny flower's seeds will fill the grassland with little, yellow faces smiling up from the ground. Its work will make this world a better and more beautiful place. May we all do the same. May we all shine our light and share our love even on the coldest and grayest days. May we all help to share a bit of spring in winter. May we all work to make this world better and brighter even when it is at its darkest.

    Mom wanted only one thing for her birthday. "Can you find me another copy of this song?" she asked, and handed me a worn-out cassette tape. I knew exactly what was recorded on it: My Redeemer. I heard the song played at least a thousand times while growing up. After so many years, the cassette tape was too worn out to be used. I promised her I would find a replacement.

    My Redeemer became Mom's favorite song after my younger brother Tim was killed by a drunk driver in 1973. The only thing that helped her calm down was the soulful sound of My Redeemer from the local radio station. We recorded it on a cassette tape so she could listen to it any time she wanted but none of us knew who the soloist(独唱者) was. These days, I thought the song would be easy to find out. I went home and searched the Internet. Several songs with that title popped up, but none of them was the one Mom loved. I got frustrated.

    Mom's birthday drew near and then one day, I was driving home, listening to our local radio station. A familiar tune came on. It was My Redeemer!As soon as I could, I phoned the station. I got a line on the soloist, who was called Alan Parks. I typed his name into Google and found his home number in South Carolina. Minutes later, I was telling him how much his recording meant to Mom. He offered to ship two CDs out to me personally. I gave him my address. "Red Lion, Pennsylvania?"he said. "Do you know the Logans?""They are our neighbors!""I've been friends with them for 25years," Alan said. "They'll be at my concert at York Gospel Chapel on April 17th. Would you and your mom come too?" We sure would. Mom was excited to hear Alan sing My Redeemer to her, live in concert-on the evening of her 87th birthday.

Jack Horner is co-author of the book How to Build a Dinosaur. However, he is most famous for his role as consultant(顾问) on all four Jurassic Park films, including the new film Jurassic World.

The original film Jurassic Park tells the story of a theme park where dinosaurs live. In that movie, scientists used DNA collected by ancient mosquitoes that had been trapped in amber shortly after they drank dinosaur blood. The scientists used this dinosaur DNA to create baby dinosaurs. The scientists in Jurassic Park created various types of dinosaurs, but in the real world there is one big problem with the story. It turns out that DNA could not possibly survive the 65 million years since the death of the dinosaurs.

The new movie creates the Indominus Rex. This idea of creating a hybrid species is something Horner has explored before. In 2011, he gave a speech in which he discussed producing a dinosaur by working with the genes of a bird. Modern birds are the closest living relative of dinosaurs.

The concept of using the genes of different animals to create new animals is called transgenic science. And this type of science has already produced some interesting results — goats that produce spider silk in their milk, cows that produce proteins for medicines that can treat diseases, and a pig that produces less-polluting waste thanks to a bit of mouse DNA. However, none of these examples are close to the dinosaurs in Jurassic World. And for a good reason — genetics is a very complex science. Producing a new species is not as simple as just exchanging a few genes around.

In the end, Jurassic World is all about fun.