Hatred is the most basic and tyrannical of instincts that can turn men into creatures who will destroy without hesitation or remorse. They’ve acquired contempt for human life and a predilection for taking it. These acts are committed out of vengeance and the violence itself is seen as a necessity. There are no laws or restraining influences, they’ve lost their inner moral values and they’ve become animals. The casualty lists grow daily. There is nothing to show for the blood being spilled other than it may be breaking the confidence of the people.

I’ve asked myself if such action arouses a continued psychopathic violence in those involved? Are all men inherently violent and does it only need an excuse to vent such homicidal instincts? I suspect evil is inherent in every man and that the devil dwells in us all and under certain circumstances we lose morality. I’ve also asked myself if such atrocities are to some extent a reflection of mankind?

Much has been said and written about the peace process with regard to Israel but you know my viewpoint and you know what the pictures portray. Nothing has changed and nothing will change. Blood will continually seep over the land. There is nothing that can be done until the mindset changes on both sides. The road forward is filled with many bumps and potholes. It will not be smooth. Nothing changes.

Oh yes, the pictures have shown and continue to show great upheaval and much sadness. War, death, accidents and famine will be as much a part of this xt century as it was of the last. Many will not survive the encroaching madness and I doubt whether it can be escaped.

I look beyond what I’ve seen and carry in my mind of Man’s achievements and innate greatness, his strengths and adaptability. I brood over the pictures hearsay and hints and shadowy portrayals and I look at people like Bill Gates and I wonder if he has any notion of the future and what he and his various companies will set in motion. I often think about the technological changes I have seen and the affect such changes will continue to have on mankind. I also think of the destruction such technology will bring about through mismanagement and deliberate oversights and I wonder why mankind has to push everything to its limit without first understanding the power he has created?

I also look at Glenn and wish I could have joined him to look upon the beauty of this earth from space and I wonder what he would make of some of our future achievements? I doubt whether anyone realises what exactly lies ahead of us in space. Nor would they have any conception of the life that abounds some of which will be as deadly to us as we will be to it. The pictures have shown startling truths, revealing hidden secrets of knowledge, igniting ever new secrets in the crucibles and athanors of time. The Universe is forever expanding and contracting, creating and is spiralling into a never-ending vast array of universes. This earth is just a grain of sand among millions/billions/zillions of grains. It surpasses human understanding.

Yes, we are Gods, we have the minds of Gods yet we abuse and will continue to abuse the powers we have been given. If anything, the pictures have shown that man will remain vulnerable because of what he is. There are no guarantees I can give you regarding his future. It will be in his own hands. May be he’ll learn that his Humanity will be his greatest asset.

Because I’m stuck in this time and this place I try to believe what my mind is showing me but I find it difficult. Yet sometimes I allow myself to dream of what is to come. Some nights I look up at the stars and I really wish I could have been born a hundred, may be two hundred years hence. I really wish I could be on the ships that will leave these shores and join those who will travel to the New Worlds. I truly believe, given the choice, I would follow that pathway to the stars …

Yes, the pictures are private, bewildering to myself. I do not have it in me to be a believer. Nor can I be a true sceptic. I cannot say, in all truth, that I am certain the pictures present as an entity entirely independent of myself. Nor can I say that they don't exist that they are imaginings of my mind! It is not enough for me to ascribe their experience to some unusual manifestation of known phenomena. Science cannot explain them. A striking fact of their colloquy is the general expectation of catastrophe, a possibility that I fear. Throughout them there is a frequent message of apocalypse. I often ask myself whether my mind has learned to manipulate reality to its own secret ends?

I am not dismissing their phenomenon to escape their reality. Blind denial is as empty a response as blind acceptance, and operates on the same level of validity. The visions and pictures are real, quite real to me. But what are they, and what in their context does the word 'real' really mean? I am aware of their controversial nature. If anyone speaks of having 'visions' it is thought that such a person is suffering from psychosis or hallucinating. I ask myself is this what holds me back? Is it, my own fear of being labelled 'crazy'?

Adding everything together, what does it add up to? God knows! I'm trying to persuade myself that they carry little that is of importance. Is there anything I really know, anything I can be absolutely sure of? I cannot dispute that the pictures show bits of information, scraps of subjects, pieces of perspective's which have to be patched together. They seemingly have no meaning but over time begin to add context as an event appears. The pattern of the pictures are confused. I have no way of knowing what truly lies ahead; whereas I am held back by what I know. I attempt to reconstruct their intricate events. Often what is illegible or missing is guessed or imagined and I frighten myself.

I try and approach the dilemma of what is happening to me in a careful and forthright way. My writing no way proves that the recollection of my experiences is correct but I attempt to describe what I picture to the best of my ability. I am dragged to the edge of reality where "the concrete world has slipped through the meshes of the scientific net" and I attempt to deal with a shattering assault from the unknown.

Yes, at times, I feel as if I am out of step, feeling and thinking in one world and existing in another. How can I not become emotionally involved when I record what I see? If all I do is to convey the description of violence and disorder by looking upon the confusion without recording my own feelings and experience, how can they fully be judged? My words could never convey the whole experience of the picture. I find it almost impossible to translate the pictures into symbols which accurately represent them. Some pictures are so fleeting or ephemeral that I can hardly capture them in symbolic form. They are almost impossible to express in words. When I experience a picture, I am caught between its furies. I feel and observe, I rejoice and suffer. Largely, what I write is instinctive but I search for precise words. I can spend an hour on a sentence, a paragraph, even a page as I fumble with words. Writing by hand exacts more effort, its slower, giving time for second thoughts. At best, my words distort and betray the truths of the pictures because I have little understanding of what it is that I have seen. All too often it is a mad confusion of images.. Often my words only hint at what I have seen in my mind, they are rough and ready translations. I often become frustrated by the gap between what it is I've seen and my language in their recording.

I record all my thoughts with a rush of words but they do not capture what it is that I've been trying to say. It is why I work with written notes and drafts. I often find myself expressing my thoughts and ideas in a number of different ways before I am finally satisfied.

I wonder if I press more meaning into their recording than exists. It is hard to master their confusion and complexity and be able to present what it is I see lucidity. As I have written above, it is hard to disengage myself from my own feelings. It is a question of understanding and explaining their least explicable and ultimately inexplicable images. I am like a child fumbling with a complex tool that I do not understand. The images can be ambiguous and can take many forms and be on many levels. I am acutely aware of their uncertainties. I cannot handle or understand fully all which is portrayed. Barriers exist because of my own lack of knowledge and language.

Behind the President, outside the rings, appeared a shadow. The shadow was black and sinister – an unnatural silence, total, weird, almost terrifying in a way, A strange feeling of impermanence. Time is illusive. It is like a breeze floating quietly and invisibly touching all things gently and imperceptibly And then it was gone, irretrievable. What was seen/sensed - its puzzling vignette from the corner of memory, vivid in itself, but lacking the congruity that would make it completely meaningful remains on the periphery of my mind. There is no doubt I sensed a shadow and the rings. Frustratingly, it only remained a shadow. As hard as I peered at the photograph there is nothing there but that. No real evidence. No confirmation. Just this silent shadow and a deep sense of foreboding. My first reaction had been to dismiss the whole thing, but I feel this exists with complete certainty. An inexplicable message emerged from the photograph of Bush, who was surrounded by three protective rings which cracked and ripped apart but where does it lead - a dead end?

What I have sensed has creates fear within myself. It surfaces to haunt the brain, to lead eyes down corridors of terror, to haunt the senses with the presence of something unknown, which remains just beyond reach. Consciously and on an instinctual level, it goes beyond understanding. A violent vortex on the edge of a whirlpool. Whatever it is, is reaching out through the barriers of time, through the photograph. I cling frantically to the edge of reason. I sense the man's life is threatened. I tell myself he's well protected, but what was seen in his photograph concerns me. It was almost as if death itself stood still. I believe that death stalks this man, but from where or whence this threat will come or if it will succeed and death eventuate I do not know. I feel a deep uneasiness. Fate and destiny reserves the rest. Something is going to happen. Something I can't understand or explain. I can't find the words to explain. I've gone over it in my head a hundred times and I pray to God that I am misreading what was seen.

There is no first moment, no singular word or place from which a picture springs because the event seen is in the future. Nothing is fixed. In and out of the pictures goes fact and fiction, mind and matter woven into patterns that may have something in common with a future event and may be hidden among them a filigree that will in time become a future event. They are a fragment of some tapestry. They either signify too much or too little. What are they but fragile moments of grasped fragments, they come and go too quickly for me to gain more than fleeting impressions. They beckon with their chimeras and sorceries, all ambiguity and flux. They are far too complex and from my own perspective they are too much of a profusion, random portrayals, slivers of sight. Yet amid their disorder curious juxtapositions abound. What if I see things falsely. Do I see the pictures correctly or do I see them in an altogether different way? Through their collision, am I deflected into another trajectory by their impact, by wanting to distance myself from them that I end up seeing something entirely different. There is nothing I can do except be pulled along by the swift and hidden current of my own destiny, no matter how hard I fight against them, I am unable to do anything but tread water for now.

Nothing stops the onslaught of images across my mind’s eye. Their never ending furore has become a part of normal life to nullify elements of the present. To become purely a memory, gone until the future, unimportant to the present, eventuates. I accepted years ago that the pictures will always be with me, affecting the path of my life in one form or another. I cannot cut myself loose from them. There are times when I feel that they are my only reality and that life itself is a dream. Waiting, I isolate their wielding imagery, superimposed over reality filled with detail that shifts across the escarpments of life.

I’ve glimpsed other circumstances and conditions in our lives that don’t yet exist. Walked on air, flown to the stars, glimpsed other worlds, drifted through infinity - they can be an endless journey through a wondrous experience. I often ask myself what it must be like to live in a half-blind world where the road being walked upon cannot be seen with vision? To live in the eternal moment, no beginning, no end, just the immediate present?