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He wondered why no one saw the emptiness in his eyes. How his soul was empty and he was just a shell. He could feel the pain spilling out of his eyes, but no one else saw it. Weren’t eyes supposed to be the window to the soul? Or whatever beast had consumed his soul and now lived within him.

One morning, while looking in the mirror, he happened to glance into the reflection of his eye and saw the pitch dark hole within. He examined it wondering if it was so invisible that no one else saw it and continued to peer into it. Before he knew it was clawing at emptiness and falling into the darkness.

There are no mirrors in his house any more.

No Country for Old Men

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy is one of those books which drags you by the scruff of your neck and forces you to look into the proverbial abyss long enough for the abyss to stare back into you.

Most characters in this story are human, fallible, prone to temptation but with a set of values and beliefs in place. Values and beliefs which mean nothing when they cross paths with Anton Chigurh. Chigurh who has a dispassionate and sometimes whimsical manner of going about his business of killing people. Like he asks one of his victims before shooting him in the face: If the rule you followed led you to this of what use was the rule ?

It’s a  dark and violent story with no sense of closure or justice, leaving you wondering what it was all about.

Just like life.