"Where do you go to"

I will ask you "Where will you go" or "Where will you go" after saying "I will go to school" this sentence.

Both of them seem to be able to use the same meaning, because Google's search returns "results where both" and "where are you going"? But I'm not sure.

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Then train: How do they hug you? Where were you? You have a job, of course, all of you are doing this. You go here, you go there - you go to the train from the train. You spread through your network through infinite cities. You sneak into all the cells in New York, absorbing all the cells like a sponge and spit out at night. After all, you have life as well. You have a house. I saw your street and your house. This is a clever way to play. When you got off the hall and got on the train, I walked and your train separated the city at 5:45. New York City breathes out to breathe you the next day

Where are you going to finish the job? Do you start a "work day" in a special way? As long as you are not working there, this is not your daily cafe. It is difficult to withdraw ourselves from the office because the work life has taken over as "family" or "entertainment life" and inherited. The American Florist Association works with a research team at Texas A & M University to study how plants and flowers improve workplace productivity. 101 participants took part in an agreement that required emotional, creative, and attention. This research shows that skill and creativity of problem solving improves in flower and plant workplaces

Where were you when your soul felt it had no house on it? Where do you go when the cavities between the ribs feel like a cage of empty squeal birds that a warm fireplace burns cold and warmth? Where are you going when the space between your eyes is consolidated with eyebrows that are frowning? The soft touch of raising thought is now only a short-lived memory? I avoided the ability to distinguish between street lights and stray dogs. From knowing which tree falls into the golden rhythm of autumn. I will raise the road buried at the border of the city, the park bench in the center of the city, and the roots of a drunken climbing fence. I ran away from the comfort we knew already, always somewhere singing somewhere singing birds home and expecting to be able to solve the knot that protruded from the forehead. I ran everywhere. I ran all about myself.