About the four-armed woman who seems never, and in reality does not, stand upon the hunched figure of cosmic infinity...

Oh come on... do you mean Kali?

Perhaps, I no longer fall for temples that have to be saved.

Ahh... Do you mean to say that in the novel, through your dreams, the shares of the eternal principles could go missing?

Perhaps... The working of nature to all appearances does not hate eternity, it does not rise out of the latent spirit, because a sleeping duality slips lightly 'into' an 'SF' threefoldness as though it came from Christianity...

You mean two destroying ones and two creating...

No. Just now I am thinking of nothing, … but, I am confused by souls that seem to be outside our bodies and so will not 'take part' in what is at this moment the very heart of us, ecology!

Ah!

With the cyclically mindless barricades set up around the novel, the selfishness of publishers, the immoral conduct of significant editorial boards, and the impossibilities facing new authors – because only recognised doctors write from the front of the stage and academics as much as they please, a fair amount of it started off exotically some thirty years before 2009 towards convulsively more wakeful contrasts, like so... The rain seemed unwilling, or did not want to, so it will not, and the night is silently murky, autumnal, with a heavier stake, like the 'foggy' one of 1978.! In the city of Zagreb they are parted by the presence of 'the spirit in my first and frightened SF dream' with about a thousand hecto-something and some fifteen Celsius measured at Pleso, and Pleso is not a dance. Ask the lightning of the Croats of that time, alongside the eight-year-older scars of the people of Zagreb! Hmmm... And regarding the -6 degrees of dew point on my SFX forehead, I must explain to you more slowly the beginning of my writing, for the sake of those abrupt ones, a billion years...