Are they the same size? Two worlds merging into one: each as confused and confusing as the other. Two books in parallel but on different timelines... most of the time. One could honestly say that she was Joe's god in a society ripe for the beast. Are they the same size is the world of Joe Soap. Joe who finally had to conclude that no woman's breasts are identical in size. "They were men and so were their fathers before them." The older man carried no expression, his voice was flat. There was no mistaking his heart breaking sincerity. "We did not mutilate the bodies as reported by your war correspondence. We ripped their stomachs open to set the spirits free. They were heroes in a strange country." Zephia's father was reliving a speck in history, more than a century old in the first person! "I am a Zulu, proud leader of my people, but I am also a Matabele. My ancestors were scattered when the great chief Chaka Zulu started killing his own people. They let the mfecane (up-rise) under Lobengula" Joe Soap found himself on more familiar ground. He knew enough of nineteenth century British history to take the gap. He waited just long enough, ponding before replying. He dropped his voice as if in thought. "The Shangani patrol massacre was a turning point not only for the old Rhodesia. Alan Wilson's spirit and the spirits of his men will rest in peace." He was addressing the older man directly, throwing the cultural protocol that required him to prevent eye contact when addressing a superior to the wind. For a moment they were equals. They both realized it. (From "Book II" Chapter 13.) AURHOR'S NOTE I Joe Soap was asked by Block to put pen to paper. He does not trust computers and therefore no word processors. He is sort of funny when it comes to that. He is a clever man. You may well ask who Block is. You may also rightfully ask which side is left or which side is right. It is quite simple. He is the individual that requested me to put his theories at the disposal of the whole wide world. It will be his contribution; the only way to create a better place for you and for me and for the whole wide world, but I have already said that. Let me not repeat myself. It may be better to start at the beginning. In the beginning when God created the universe, the earth was formless and desolate and then there was Block. Just kidding, just kidding, He has such a good sense of humour. Everybody will agree to that. How can they not? How dare they not? I wanted to call him Super. It became Block. And the two shall never meet. I first met him while I was recuperating at home after I fractured my ankle. I was eighteen. What are a few days between friends? My dad loved his clichés. My dad had also just passed away. I was feeling real low. Not a friend in the whole wide world. Here I go again. Anyway I was feeling low. As low as only an eighteen-year (nearly) old boy that has never scored can feel. I very nearly had it once, but was interrupted by her husband, but that is another story. This is supposed to be Super's story. Sorry not a story. A way of life. The only way to live. The eternal way to everlasting existence. Or should it be the only way to eternal existence? Sorry Block. (From "The Answer" as related to Joe Soap by Block.) Are they the same size? Where to start? What to read first? Book I, Book II or maybe to start with the epilogue and work your way back? Whatever you, the reader decide will frustrate you.