In the shanty town as I saw the houses around me visibly sink into the ground. I knew that these houses had once been newly built, maybe even luxury houses of the 19th century. The poverty-stricken shanty town had once been a thriving economic concern when the copper foundry was there. But 150 years later disintegration had set in, and the houses were clinging precariously onto verticality.
I lived a life in a place that may have had a profound subconscious influence on my writing. But I also had contact with the world of science via books and scientific journals. Molecular biology was advancing during the 1990s as my theory took shape. Many details about DNA were confirming my innovative concepts which were written on bits of paper.
Research into the origin of things also gave me an inner life. I have never got bored or given up hope. The well-spring of inspiration wells up each day and is always new. The God who created life gives life to the soul, and the soul, at least, never grows old.
One day people will listen. Maybe after I have returned to dust I will have my say. My words will live on.
Out of the precariousness of human life sprang an idea – if it is truth, it will outlast the vagaries of time. It will build up. These written words will not pass away as everything around us is lost. What is old will be renovated, and made new.