The Zoo Keeper will be a book of intrigue and mystery. A child grown to manhood but has seen things beyond his years and suffers from without and within demons not seen by others, not known by others, ….. only felt. They are the kind that make the hairs stand upon the skin and noted only as some sort of …. warning, I guess you could say, but from where do they come. What breeze did they float in on and, most importantly, what is it they want with you. The Zoo Keeper, being written now even as I write this. The book controls. The characters control. And, Mrs. Harmon from The Pelman Murders is centerfold, watching, hunting, and perhaps…..killing.
I often think of us, you and me, in terms of who we are. I have never come up with an answer to suit me.
What are we? Again, the same problem. Oh, I suppose we can talk about material items, flesh, blood, molecules, that sort of things but does it define us? I think not.
So I have decided that what we are is a collection of memories. We are thoughts. We are not future as the future doesn’t exist. We are not present (even though we think we are) because present is both past and future and future doesn’t exist so you cannot have present. Therefore we are past, and past is memory pushing against the present and the future which are both indistinct and perpetually indistinguishable. In writing I am dealing with thought about the future but the future doesn’t come into being until the present when I type or think out a thought that then becomes past as in memory. Even typing the word out. It doesn’t become until AFTER I hit the key and then the letters fall on the page but this is after and not before. Before is thought but doesn’t exit in the here and now until I help it materialize. The future is undefinable. It exists only because we think it does and yet if you die right now that future you thought about is not here.
And yet, time is accessible past and future to an extent with present being the focus. In essence we are time travelers without the awareness that we are.