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Introduction
One life in the middle of seven billion, a pulsating, living breathing thing outside of the confines of any logical system, blood, electricity, hearts, bones, and brains reeling, writhing, sleeping. A hierarchy of bones and gods. One life, or two lives or a family, an infinitesimal fraction of humanity, an unnoticed, uncared for speck in the infinite vast cold cosmos. What does it matter? What does one life matter, or two or three or a thousand? Millions die unnoticed, unloved, unwanted, neglected and forgotten. One small family floating like driftwood in the sea. One arbitrary configuration of atoms, cells, emotions and sinew. But there is life here, there is will, there is blood there is milk, life, and death. What does one family mean? One group or individual? What impact do they have on the universe? Do these individual lives of blood and thoughts and skin drive the human throng to commit murders, topple governments, lead revolutions and fall in love?
These events are transient fickle things though. Dreams and memories are the only glue of the universe, binding each life together. Each human dream is a new architecture, built in the cold cosmos among the primeval organisms and one celled tyrants, a celestial undertaking; millions of dreams these daily utopias and dystopias, cluttering the universe. The dying and the neglected, the forsaken and starving remember as well. They remember the sun in the fields of their youth. They remember their old lovers, dreams and memories and they are the only tangible things which drive the human throng forward, giving it goals and plans, the reason it trudges toward an uncertain future. Dreams and memories in the middle of their loneliness, like a rotted pumpkin in a large field, dreams and memories spring up, congeal and become a topography of blood, batteries of the universe, they are temporary, but this is progress, transient as it is.
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MOST TITLES AVAILABLE WORDLWIDE
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through INGRAM SPARK iPAGE Distribution
also available HERE at SILVER BOW STORE