Sure I read some originals.. However, the handwriting was harder to read than my stories..

I had gotten lost in Brazil. Santos during a parade of sorts. Somehow I ended up at Brazil Harbor of Santos. A library of sorts called Martins Fontes library. Entering the library, well, it astounded me at what I found. Collections of books. Original books. Some hundreds of years old. Now, I should regress just a step. I had what you call a special passport of sorts. I had gotten it because of a favor from a Department of State. Anyway, a person requested me to show my passport at the door. Since, I had no objections. I entered the room behind the door. In that room I found wild books from everywhere. Unexpectedly signed first editions. The Highlands of Brazil by Sir Richard Burton was at the English table. An original 1865 edition with a letter from Sir Burton himself. I got even more excited about some letters that described some affair with a Brazilian ambassador’s lady. Moving the book aside. I also discovered an original journal from Sir Burton. Notes of Mil y una noches a Spanish translation of what I believe was One thousand one nights with graphical representation of the women described in the stories. Setting these aside. Went farther into the library self. There was a small suitcase. The tag on it said something dated appeared 1921. It seemed like train luggage if I understood the writing in French stamped Swiss/ German / signature looked to be in English. Hadley something. Anyway, I tried to open it. The luggage opened up. Seemed someone Hemingway had written a war story. In the Great War. He was an ambulance driver in Italy, of all places.. Seemed rather dull up to where he got shot. The love story there being nursed back to health and receiving medals and assorted love affairs. The reading was well worth the hour and half that it took me to figure out pages. They all seem mixed up. Whoever got the suitcase changed the order of the book for some purpose. Why? I have no clue. Moving that aside, I came upon a huge old book. In Spanish, not Portuguese, which made me look at it with interest. Las aventuras del Capitán Alonso de Contreras: un viaje del siglo XVI. I later found an English version, however the date was wrong. Las aventuras del capitán Alonso de Contreras: un viaje del siglo XVII. Meaning? Alonso de Contreras started in 1592 one century before the English translation. What was more interesting was the book talked about the Barbary coast pirate trade in the Mediterranean? Now, you would expect someone stuck in a library room full of collected historical books would be watched. To be honest, I think whoever was at the door left right after letting me into the room. Why? I think I realized they locked me in the room. Also, it really did not bother me. I had light and books. Since they locked me in. I found some place to sit down more comfortably. Meaning I had been sitting right behind the table where the stack of books are I was talking about. So I could easily have seen how if someone at the door looked into the room, they would not have seen me. Seated on the floor. After finding a lovely chair that was patted. I reviewed more books. The question I had after going through more books had started this collection? And how did they get personal books, original books, and what looked like first drafts of people’s writings? Going back to the door, I found a log in sheet. I suppose, therefore, they did not look for me. I had not logged into the room. Scrolling my finger down the login paper. I realized I might be in some trouble. People were here not as often as I would have expected. And the names on the list seemed rather familiar. Jorge Luis Borges 1903, Richard Francis Burton 1860, someone Hemingway 1950, Lafayette Ronald Hubbard, with a slash 1960. I decided I should sign my name, of course, on the login. So at least if they found my body, they knew whose it was. Wondering if I should leave work behind. I removed some of my Wandering mind through the Multiverse by a time traveler with my name on it and placed it on a table. I figured if someone actually read it as famous as those people, I might get at least a pleasant laugh at my writing about my adventures in spacetime. Going deeper into the room than the table I had been seated at for the past day or few hours. How long had it been? I did not have digital equipment with me. I had an old wind up watch. Which appeared to have stopped. Even though I am sure I had wound it up enough for two days. I took the login sheets with me and examined more of the signatures. Now, cursive is subjective. However, I think I read some rather famous names on the login. Taking a book off the next table. I realized someone attached the book to a journal/translation sheet. Interestingly, the translation sheet read something like the Book of the Battles of Yahweh in the language of the book Libro de las Batallas de Yahweh. From what I could translate third hand. The complete translation was about battles between Mose, and the people he ran across in the desert for the 40 years of wandering. What got me excited were some references to exact places in which only could be described as Saudi Arabia. I looked at my watch, which I had rewound and set to 12 to count the hours I would be stuck here. Surely, someone must open the door in a library. According to the watch. It was now a complete 11 hours since I rewound the watch. In yet? I did not feel hungry. Nor did I feel sleepy. It excites me about the books I discovered here. Going back to the table. I realized that one table nearby had just piles of paper. Some of it is rather old too. I went over and looked. A play called Cardenio by a letter I found mixed in the play by no less than Will Shakspear. Assuming William Shakespeare, I read it. Appeared to be some sort of similarity to Don Quixote, but set in the court of England instead of Spain.. Sadness, the cursive handwriting made it hard to read. However, I laughed long and hard at certain parts of the play. Now, I looked at my watch and realized it was now a good 13 plus hours since I had rewound my watch. The mystery was still not feeling hungry or tired. I continued to read other people’s work in amazement. That is when I realized something else. Let alone not hungry or sleepy. I had not needed the restroom. Not sure how long that they had locked me in. This was curious. Moving through the room I came across Margites according to the translation attached, it was by Homer. Whom ever had written the translations in Portuguese and forgive me, the translation made little sense to me. By this time, I had figured I had been in the library a lot longer than expected. I needed a plan to escape instead of waiting for someone else to open the door. I started by checking the door. It appeared to be a simple locking mechanism. I tried the door just to see if it would open. Nope. I started making lots of loud noises. Again, no one. I listened to hear if there was anyone outside. And for all I could hear, there was no one. I was alone. After attempting to push the door out. I tried to pull it in. Nope. I went back to reading books. This time I found another pile of English written material. Something dealing with Hardy boys. Seemed rather mysterious. Then below that two Sherlock Holmes mysteries by Conan Doyle labeled or titled mysteries 63 and 64. More like Holmes vacation in South America upper part of Brazil from what I could understand of the cursive handwriting. The one titled 64 seemed to be a continuation of 63. The beginning is Holmes already is in a colony camp owned by Britain above Brazil. There his nemesis is plotting to bring back dangerous elements or unknowns. Meaning Sir Doyle’s handwritten notes on the side seem to show that he was still deciding what the nemesis would bring back. After reading through 64 by Sir Doyle I realized I need to make more attempts to get out of the room. And to keep me in reality. I started a clock system of placing one book on the floor for every 12 hours passing through the room. I placed 3 books there because I was sure of passing at least one day and and part of another there. The number of books, translations that I had read was close to nine at this point.

The rest of this story you can ask facebook to find since it ate it.

I remember I escaped. How? I am unsure.. But that was eons ago.

July 2016 plus or minus 4 billion years from my reality. (which updated today 4.5 billion years) Why? Let be honest. In 2013 I read that earth was to step outside the galaxy on the Sagittarius arm of the Milky Way galaxy and within 365000 years earth was to hit the next galaxy. Here this galaxy is to hit the next galaxy in 4 billion years.. To be that old and not have learned much more than who Shakespeare resting place and that his father is a glove maker is an oddity.

To begin with, my name is Clinton Siegle and yes, I am disabled and living in La Paz, Bolivia. My story starts like most days being human. Waking up and doing exactly the identical thing in the equivalent location with the same people. That is up until May 20th, 2016. I was awoken by yelling from a woman that sounded like my wife. If you do not understand the significance, it might help if I explain to you rules of my life. You do not lie nor yell at me. I am me inside my mind and never will I yell at you and I expect the same.

I got to shower and was dressing when the first change struck. My socks, which are a diabetic sock confine you would buy and use for hunting socks, were straight dress socks. I asked my wife. When did I get new socks? She said never, and that these were my normal socks. I kind of shrugged off what was happening and went to look like a pair that would keep me warm. All my socks that I knew were gone. In their place were dress socks. That was the start of an interesting day. I was to accompany my mother-in-law to cancer treatment, which I had done several times before.

The difference was slight, and I did not pay much attention to my surroundings but went with her to the van location to be picked up. To my surprise, there were several vans. In my universe, there are two or three that day at the beginning of my adventure. There were nine vans awaiting us to go. I started seeing things differently, a pizza place I normally frequently was freshly painted, but not fresh paint. Meaning the colors were different.

We got to the hospital and to my surprise, where I normally sit in the dark without anyone. Surrounding me was full. And evidently this place was the maternity wing where in my universe, this was the waiting section for part of the hospital where people awaited being called upstairs. However, in that universe, there were lines. This was unexpected and only retrospect. Can I speak of this? My mind did not grasp what was happening until three days after this trip to the hospital.

My mother-in-law’s chemo was an extra hour longer, for some reason, and I went outside to where I normally sneak a cookie wafer. To my surprise, the price from Wednesday to Friday went down to 50 centavos. For those that do not know Bolivia, a BS is worth roughly 13 cents. And being disabled and on a budget, saving 7 cents was interesting. I had to ask and double check with the lady because I was a bit disturbed by the pricing difference.

When my mother-in-law was done, we got out to the street to catch a taxi to the front of the US embassy in La Paz, Bolivia. This was where I knew something was up. My mother-in-law was new to this location as well as me. We argued with the taxi drivers of four taxis. You see, on Wednesday the cost was 10 BS to our next stop, but the first three demanded 15 BS and finally my mother-in-law gave in and paid it. I asked her what she normally pays, and she said 5 BS. That is when I thought I was crazy for a moment.

Upon arriving at the front of the embassy. Instead of the broad window that showed, we did not fear anyone or anything. The embassy windows looked like arrow ports where the embassy was a defense fort instead of the embassy of acceptance and power.

I was a bit more than a little disturbed but went for my appointment. I had been to this therapist for six visits and in walking in; I was more than a little taken back. The furniture on all the blue seats was now red. You would say who cares or so what she got new furniture. No, and this is the wild part. There was a scratch on a table with the same fabric as the seats. You say so what that scratch was there before, and tears right into the fabricate just like my universe but instead of a dark blue, the color was red. I was silent and just watched what I said and what I did. I got home that night after three appointments and went to go to my bed.

I mentioned some of the changes and my wife. Thought fumes from a new floor wax were the problem and moved me into my kid’s room while my kid moved into a different room.

That is where this story becomes even odder and such. I pay attention to small stuff due to worrying about my eyesight and where I might have left something. That night my kids Precious moments framed cartoon was three feet from a door and high as my head.

The next morning, I had lost my eyesight in my left eye, and the precious moment painting was at present at my waist height and from where the old spot would have been at 8 55 position it now was at a 435 position. Meaning in the night someone either went into my room and rearranged everything, or I was someone else.

I did not understand it then, nor for some time later, but I was moving between multiverse. That day I thought I was nuts. For the next few weeks, which turned to current date, I was transferred each night around 1 AM to a new location. I have seen from my baseline world things; I can remember the following.

Sketchers the name for a shoe branding for stretching goes to Skechers. I have seen Bernie Sanders win Kentucky in the primary. I have seen the Republican Party convention move from July 7th through July 10th to July 18th through July 21st. I have seen BREXIT UK stay within the EU on a Tuesday vote EU 56 percent to leave 44 and then I have seen the UK leave at 51 percent and EU stay loss at 49 percent. I have seen the word racist used for both staying and leaving the EU.

After a while, I stopped watching news because I was a bit more upset, then I could handle at a time. I tried to talk with people, and only a Navy commander would write back, and he told me that I was on drugs, Lord, if I could be on drugs that would make this trip worthwhile.

I started to look for different answers to my problem. I found several new ideas for math. Rainbow universe, which means there was no big bang that started all this. I found Montauk project, which being a conspiracy theorist in my universe was both fresh to me. I found universes where people's names and emails were not so private, and I asked several cosmetologists and mathematicians what was going on. No one seemed to care. My navy friend stopped talking to me when I told him Napoleon was spelled differently which he said Napoleon was spelled always that way. That is just the start of my search.

I started to go back and ask certain things and discovered that both my daughters had experienced the same unique experience, having been somewhere and then awaking in a new place. My oldest her time travel lasted from November through December. She told me her mom told her to just let it go. My youngest is still traveling her personality is such that only a person who knows her can see her change from a caring kid to a somewhat selfish kid to a genius at times. As for myself, my last night’s trip was to watch Wreck it Ralph. Instead of Penelope being the princesses, they call her Vanillin and guess what there is a Wreck it Ralph part II in that universe. Wild..

All this brings me down to my search for the cause of this. In my professional career, I was a scheduler and used Monte Carlo simulations. After 54 days of travels, I came upon something that all three of the people I know used and was differently set up. Google connected their Dwave computer into Minecraft. They had allowed someone to hack or ask a quantum computer a question which instead of using just their world or universe; they used the word all command. That little mistake if math holds correct changed 100,000 people’s minds in the multiverse. If you have not guessed, it my body is elsewhere but my mind is trying to get back home. The question which was asked had something to deal with in stories. The answer they got was good, but then they said this. Put everything back at 100 percent. For those that do not work Monte Carlo simulations, 100 percent and the word EXACT are two different concepts. Meaning there are outliners in ever simulations that you have to manual re-enter the outliner or what is known as the butterfly effect occurs. Meaning the outliner is used but placed not in the same place, time, nor location. You ask what is the difference between place and location. A place is, for example, a Pizza Hut, while a location is geographical location. Without knowing the baseline whomever said 100 percent to a computer does not understand that in an infinite computer that there is a rounding error usually unseen after a certain number of computer simulations. Example in using MS Project 98 if an hourly wage is used with seconds, minutes, hours, and days with an estimate of three million dollars, or more you could expect costs to be off by 43 dollars due to some time being either added or subtracted depending on the usage of minutes versus hours. The same with location of a place. I tracked the mountain illuminati and New Zealand, Japan, etc and realized certain locations did not change but places where I was had. Meaning I could normally see Illumnati at my breakfast table turning my head. I can no longer see illuminati, unless I go outside and sit on a park bench. For the first few weeks, I tracked the mountain and was wildly crazy about seeing it move. Until I discovered it was my location that had moved. Today is July 14th land the changes I realized from yesterday are. The fence had 19 metal bars painted red to get to a green bar and today; There are only 17 red bars on the green bar. What is the meaning of this story? There is multiverse is all I can say at present.

I was at the library when I bumped into a shelf. The shelf clicked and swung open. There was a dusty old room. I walked in and on a table was a book. So I picked it up. Going out of the room, I pushed the shelf back in place and sat down. The book was old. I flipped through the book, and a page fell out. It was an old MacDonald map from the 1960s with the town blocks and an x in the middle of what was an abandoned car lot? I went there with a shovel I found what looked like a folder with one page. The folder was labeled page of the book of life. Reading it was like reading a person's whole life on one page however, the page did not just show one life story. His, hers, theirs hopes, desires, everything from good too bad, and back again. A page from the book of life. The page was wild. By closing one’s eyes you could see the same soul living within different lives. The page was just one soul, living and living and living over and over again, trying to figure out an experience which seemed to have no meaning. The story shared a lot, sure there were good points and parts to the story, and then there were many, many bad parts showing whole lives that did not make sense at all. I mean, how one soul can experience the same types of despair over again. The unexpected happened while I continued to read. I realized I had met this soul. The awkwardness of reading a soul’s story and realization that within the story you were at any given moment pointing that soul on to the soul’s next experience was wildly unsettling. The stories shared how you react to a person’s action pivoted the story form and from good too bad to excellent to depression to complete emptiness. The story just kept on repeating itself over and over again, trying to find something that was missing. What the page was trying to fix was the story missing happiness? At times. What were the stories about to fix sadness? At times. When I realized that the soul was searching for a meaning and purpose. I started over rereading each story. I say all the stories were on one page. I say each time I looked at the page the soul had a different story to tell which was awkward to see in the written word. How many times I read at times the soul would or could a soul reach for something that was almost there and then poof. The story would begin again. The purpose was the search for God? In yet, in many many of the stories, the soul found God. In many forms shapes however never the right form evidently for the story started right away again. I tried to reread the same story again and could not find that story. That story seemed to vanish or not exist on the page any more. I tried figuring out what to do. Reading a single page in a folder is awkward on the best of days, with a shovel that day made the reading extreme.

So I went home with the page.

So often people don’t want to know why I say I am not from here. So I posted why the man cover holes switch from circles to triangles today.. humor the same man cover hole is a square. Awkwardness is when you have to play that old age game of three pictures find the differences and after a while you wonder does it really matter? Then you realize history has changed. Many missing ideas in my reality show up. Who was Shakespeare? His dad was a glove maker, and he had kids with Ann Hathaway.. You wander the book stories find an ole book you remember turn to the page that makes a quote that made a difference to me. And Wola the quote is mis-written enough you wonder if the poor soul here ever found that book because it is no longer in my collection of books. What did this poor soul do with his time? I mean sure I am blind, my stump of a leg hurts, and other issues I sleep a lot however I wonder would I enjoy wine with myself? I mean, is the soul or perception of me here worthwhile? Did he or was he someone I would have hung out with discussed why we should rebel against the state or did he not think? I see his writings and at times I see myself and at other times I see a genus stuck in hell. I wonder. Myself? I realize this to has past. My fruit is mushy. Whatever they use for the freezing process to stop and start time in a twinkling of an eye is either not functioning right or the end of time for some worlds is happening soon. Now as for changes my changling has changed. She is more worried about plastic straws and when I explain she should ask the communist to stop dumping their garbage into the ocean, she gets made because she opinionated that s racism. I explain politics is not a race. Either I do not explain well or my past selves have failed to teach her that life is not what I expected it to be. A square man cover hole. Weird.. humor. So if shapes are changing I would like a book and the Alice program knows which book I am looking for. I looked for it once upon a time and found it. The story is there. Evil one for some and weird one for others. I wonder.

When you are a time travel and realize Anne Hathaway most likely was famious in a prior life too. Look at some key events from Shakespeare’s time in Stratford.

1557 William Shakespeare’s parents, John Shakespeare and Mary Arden, were married.

1564 William Shakespeare was born in Stratford.

1571 Shakespeare started school.

1582 Shakespeare married Anne Hathaway.

1583 William and Anne’s first child was born.

1585 The Shakespeares had more children: twins Judith and Hamnet.

the 1580s Shakespeare went to London and started working in the theatre, leaving his family in Stratford.

From what we’ve learned so far, what influence do you think

Dear Mandela effected friends.. In my world, we did not know who Shakespeare was. Here he died 1616. I have seen him die 1624 and 1620. Anyone from my world remembering that three people were considered being Shakespeare as a composite poet writer and not ever as a single person whose life was known about.. Please reply with your memories of British literature 101. The real question I have now for paradox is what discussion did I have during Ms. Fay Noyes Matheny class if Shakespeare was truly someone you could say hey he lived, he had kids; he wrote 44 plays.. Meaning I recall something in high school but what did the mind in this body do there or here when I pointed out that I believed he was one person and recollection the argument went against and people were saying Sir bacon wrote one of his play, some ambassador to Italy wrote Romeo and Juliette meaning the scene were out of someone else's book.. Diane Francis what do you think happens during your life when you remember something one way and are told no no.. It happened this way..