The Dark Lens
I had just moved into a new house by the sea after switching jobs. The rustling of the leaves and the lapping of the waves surrounding me were comforting beyond words, and the serene scenery beyond my doorstep brought time to a halt each moment it drew my gaze. However, although I enjoyed this tranquility at first, I soon came to witness the disquietude that lingered in the heart of an old homeless man nearby. I first saw him while walking home from work. He was clutching his sunglasses with one hand and wailing his other arm into the air, cursing at someone or something that was seemingly out to get him. “No, stay back, you demons!” he’d say. “Go away! Begone! Haven’t you taken enough from me?” he’d continue. The man repeated those words every day for three days in a row. Many onlookers avoided him without a word, while a few others often recorded him with amusement in their eyes. I felt my stomach curl seeing his struggles. He looked like he needed professional help. When I attempted...