The world is moving faster and faster, but where are we going?I think one of the reasons why things are getting blurry is because there is not much meaning.

All writers have roots they draw from - travel, work, family. My roots are in science and it is fertile ground for fiction.

But what is the past? Could it be, the firmness of the past is just illusion? Could the past be a kaleidoscope, a pattern of images that shift with each disturbance of a sudden breeze, a laugh, a thought? And if the shift is everywhere, how would we know?

I think it is always a long shot getting a book made into a film. Making that book into a film is going to be quite a challenge.

I still will sit down at the piano and play when I am wrestling with something emotionally or just want to move into the musical world.

Unconditional love. That’s what he wants to give her and what he wants from her. People should give without wanting anything in return. All other giving is selfish. But he is being selfish a little, isn’t he, by wanting her to love him in return? He hopes that she loves him in return. Is it possible for a person to love without wanting love back? Is anything so pure? Or is love, by its nature, a reciprocity, like oceans and clouds, an evaporating of seawater and a replenishing of rain?

The tragedy of this world is that everyone is alone. For a life in the past cannot be shared with the present.