⇢ A House for Mr. Biswas
by V.S. Naipaul (pg 153) mizukos​
Sitting beneath a tree while bent over a text book seemed to be a common theme for the college student as finals quickly approached and he was left studying beneath the shade. The heat had cause pinpricks of sweat to appear at the collar of his shirt and his temples, but he didn’t mind it. It was relaxing to find himself away from the claustrophobic clutter of his mother’s shop and the buzzing coffee shops he tended to visit. He didn’t need the internet to drill math facts into his head, he just needed the quiet calm of nature and the sweet breeze that sifted its fingers through his hair and brought him relief.Â
After sitting bent over for far too long, the young man decided it was a time for a break as he leaned back against the trunk of his tree, looking up long enough to see a woman coming through with a camera, pausing at the flowering bushes to take pictures. The thought brought a smile to Hyuk’s lips but it twitched away as he looked past her towards the shadows that seemed to linger a bit longer behind her, a tiny bit darker. After living with his gift for years, he knew not to ignore such signs, but most people knew of their demons, especially when they were thicker and denser than most. Whoever that woman was, she was dangerous or different.Â
Something about that swirling darkness however made him sit up a bit. Maybe he was staring, maybe he was being drawn in... there was a pull and it felt as if too many hands were tugging at him at once. There was something in those shapeless entities that spoke to him, whispering of death and untold sins. Promising that life, to be full, had to be this established pattern of sensation. Grief and joy, both equally awaited, were one. That they had seen it one too many times and wished to share with him the visions of beauty that made up the endless cycle and before he could stop himself he was standing before the woman, eyes dazed and expression slackened, reaching out for nothing that she could see.
