This is a book that was not meant to be.
The narrative that is untold in it overshadows what is,
The human journey in existence has been too long to measure, and a subject of every single view,
This is the Grand Creation, in its events and its still images; in its musical notes and alphabets; in its aromas and tastes...
If it could be told, silence is the best way to express it,
For, silence is where all meet.
But a good soul, in all the cycles of human existence told of a dream of a far, far past life. And in an attempt to help him and his readers to put his dream in a context of names and places we became helpless before a deluge of words, words which wanted to be written, and once written, remembrance was to the joy of those who remember, or at least have a degree of intuition left in their minds to tell them: this is true.
Will humanity ever be able to look back at its previous journeys since its liberation to be, to recognise her eternity? Perhaps never, but individuals can, and those who do feel lonely in a world preoccupied in its own commotion.
And let us not forget, that time is linear only in our perception born in sensory perception.
For, Time is one present moment, no more no less,
And past, present and future become only in the linear perception.
Throw yourself in a world where you have never been before, you will perceive your past, present and future therein: if you cannot perceive Time.
Hence it sounds insane to say to people: the present has not come from the past, and the past did not happen, but only the present happens,
Because it does not make sense.
But we do recount the narrative nevertheless, so we broaden our perception, and help ourselves interpret our experiences, may it help us leap to a moment of Existence, where we can experience the joy of being.