Personal Narrative-Belly Enzyme

One afternoon I was at Mama´s General store buying some provisions and I saw Mama’s little granddaughter Marguerite, who was extremely shy and I had seen her before with her brother when they came to the town. She was quiet, she had been mute for five years after an incident that changed her life.At the age of eight she had been raped by her mother´s boyfriend. Her uncles had killed the man and she had felt responsible for his murder therefore as à result of guilt she went into a mute stage. After I had payed for the provisions, mama had asked me if I need Bailey her oldest grandson to carry my bags, but instead of him, I wanted Marguerite to carry my bags, for a reason. That being said, I wanted to help her break out of her nutshell, and for her to speak again. The moment I saw Marguerite, I knew there was something amazing about her which no other girl had in town. Therefore, I had told mama that I would like Marguerite to carry my bags. Marguerite looked at me as if I was calling her name in a beautiful, tranquil cave that had echoed so softly that It ran so smooth like the wind. Mama and I had exchanged the elderly looks,which Marguerite did not understand by what I had meant, and with mama’s permission it was ok for her to go with me. On the way to my house we had talked about how well she was doing in school but she wasn't talking. She was enticed by the way I was pronouncing her name and would stare at me. She was shocked that I choose her to assist me out of everyone in the town. The walk to my house was overall quiet, she was mute all the way, shy, nervous and was wondering why I chose her to take my bags home with me. I wanted her to know that somebody loved her and that

She is upset by the loss of the day even though her mother attempts to distract her with a garden of flowering violets, her father also attempts to comfort her. Finally, she returns to sleep after dinner. Her memory is a positive memory and the motif if the violets are used to link the past and present as it will help her get through her dark times. In the visual her memory is included, and he mother confronting her is one of the main images that she remembers from this. The image of her mother comforting her is a very important one, as it establishes the role and persona of a mother at the time and how women in that era were seen as to stay home look after children and the men went out and worked to support the

“Sweetheart, can I please talk to you?” my mom whispered. She sat alongside me on the bed and rubbed my back, like she did when I was a little girl.

Its been seventeen years since her death and although she never got to meet her she could still hear her sweet voice echoing through her brain just like she did when she was in the womb. Given birth to Remi meant more to her than saving her own. So once it was time for her to birth to her second baby girl her life was slowly gone. Bit thankful she spent every day reading and singing to her just to Remi could fill her presence even after she was

With only a few hampers full of clothes, and our book bags we left to stay with her father. The plot obviously winds from there, but we never went back. I should not have been able to, but at that moment I honestly believe I knew that I would never have to come back, and an immense weight lifted from my shoulders at that moment. This memory is honestly one of my favorites from my childhood. Looking back this moment, I can see how that toxic environment had stunted my personal growth, and outside of it I flourished.

She lays helplessly, hopelessly tranced. What will remain of her in the coming hours is unknown, but one thing is for certain, I will remain by her side until she is an empty house, cold and unseeing. Though sorrow may fill my bones, all that I let show through is a sense of tranquil energy in lieu of the recent events. She mumbles and murmurs longing for the life long past. Embarrassment occupies her brain as she contemplates why and how her life has come to this. She reeks of stupidity and frailness when her life was nothing close to that. She fears that what we leave behind is more important that what we were. Is it though? Regardless of what she was or what she has become, I am here and I will always be here.

Digestion is a complicated process that uses many different processes to digest food efficiently. It is necessary for not only us but for almost every organism. A major part in digestion is pH or how acidic or basic a substance is. pH helps digestion happen, the question is for the Stentor and the Rotifers at what pH ranges does their digestion occur? We will test that by using pH indicators, and observing the digestion happen under the microscope.

Thinking about her brings me back to the first day we met, our freshman year of high school, in health class. My natural tendency to arrive early, lead me to be the first one in class that afternoon, giving me my prime spot of choice, the far corner. I felt safe there, where I could see everyone, without everyone seeing me. I watched the rest of the students come filing in through the

While I'd gone off to university and pursued science and academia, then working as a translational and clinical researcher - striving for a world where one day many cancers will be curable and others successfully managed as chronic diseases like ashtma and diabetes, she'd followed her passion - sketching and painting. The bulk of her income came from sales at craft markets and the ocassional private commission. Her pencil sketch, drawn during our school days, of a scene of the Company's Garden on a spring day hangs above my fireplace. I literally feel as though I'm in the picture - it's so alive with

“Enzymes are proteins that have catalytic functions” [1], “that speed up or slow down reactions”[2], “indispensable to maintenance and activity of life”[1]. They are each very specific, and will only work when a particular substrate fits in their active site. An active site is “a region on the surface of an enzyme where the substrate binds, and where the reaction occurs”[2].

Enzymes are an important part of all metabolic reactions in the body. They are catalytic proteins, able to increase the rate of a reaction, without being consumed in the process of doing so (Campbell 96). This allows the enzyme to be used again in another reaction. Enzymes speed up reactions by lowering the activation energy, the energy needed to break the chemical bonds between reactants allowing them to combine with other substances and form products (Campbell 100). In this experiment the enzyme used was acid phosphates (ACP), and the substrate was p-nitrophenyl phosphate.

The stomach is an expandable muscular sac that is capable of holding 2-4 liters of food and liquids and breaks them down with the use of pepsinogen, an inactive form pepsin, a protein-digesting enzyme. If the stomach was damaged or dysfunctional, then it would be harder to gradually release food into the small intestine at a rate suitable for proper digestion and absorption and to digest the food because it is not as small or digested because the stomach also assists in the mechanical and chemical breakdown of the food as well as the killing of harmful bacteria due to the high acidic environment due to the hydrochloric acid. (Audesirk, T., & Audesirk, G. (1999). Retrieved November 21, 2015 from Chapter 29: Nutrition and Digestion. In Biology:

And I was there, too, hoping to find you and say to you, Come back, come back, there's only one street, one door, we didn't mean it, we didn't know, whatever was wrong will be different. Several times I decided you were dead, even wished you were dead, but then another postcard would come, with another message to ponder. And I've always read them, even when my husband said not to, even if they've driven me to tears or rage or a blankness when I've no longer cared if you were dead or anyone were dead, including myself. I've been faithful, too, you see. I've always looked up where you were in the atlas, and put your postcards in the box. Sixtythree postcards, four hundred—odd lines of scrawl: our life together. Why are you standing there like that? my daughter asks me. I must have been away somewhere, I say. But I'm back. Yes. You see, Mother, I always come back. That's the distance that separates us. But on summer evenings, when the windows are open to the dusk, I sometimes smell cities … wheat fields … oceans—strange smells from far away—all the places you've been to that I never will. I smell them as if they weren't pictures on a postcard, but real, as close as my outstretched hand. And sometimes in the middle of the night, I'll sit bolt upright, my husband instantly awake and frightened, asking, What is it? What is it?

Get ready for the dangerous ride of a banana getting crushed, smashed, and absorbed through the digestive system. “Watch out for the involuntary muscles which they can’t even control and voluntary muscles they can control, but will still use thriving to help get our nutrients by crushing us.” everyone has always said but, that didn’t stop him. Once Banana was ripe enough the farmer has picked him. Banana thought is was chosen for an amusement park. because everyone else says it’ll be like a scary rollercoaster, he took it literally…

I wish that she never leave this world, but her time just finished, and I'm happy because I know that she enjoyed her life, I will miss her big smile, always in her face those big eyes that tell everything about her, her eyes were amazing and big, when she was angry, she will just look at you like if she will kill you. She used to bother a lot, but that make her so amazing. I wish I could back in time and save her from everything, but we can't stop time , and she left this world, but I'm sure that now she is on another paradise and I'm sure that she is laughing really