Language Tethers Us To The World; Without

Getting To Know Someone Else Involves Curiosity About Where They Have Come From, Who They Are.

The Idea That Memory Is Linear Is Nonsense. What We Have In Our Heads Is A Collection Of Frames. As To Time Itself-can It Be Linear When All These Snatches Of Other Presents Exist At Once In Your Mind? A Very Elusive And Tricky Concept, Time.

Perhaps I Shall Not Write My Account Of The Paleolithic At All, But Make A Film Of It. A Silent Film At That, In Which I Shall Show You First The Great Slumbering Rocks Of The Cambrian Period, And Move From Those To The Mountains Of Wales...from Ordovician To Devonian, On The Lush Glowing Cotswolds, On To The White Cliffs Of Dover... An Impressionistic, Dreaming Film, In Which The Folded Rocks Arise And Flower And Grow And Become Salisbury Cathedral And York Minster.

We All Act As Hinges-fortuitous Links Between Other People.

The Present Hardly Exists, After All-it Becomes The Past Even As It Happens. A Tricky Medium, Time - And Central To The Concerns Of Fiction.