The Reading Man

Within view of the famous temple, a man sat reading under a tree.
‘Are you reading science-fiction?’

Within view of the famous temple in the forest, a man sat under a tree, reading. Despite his shaven head, visible under his hoodie, and lean monk-like frame (which wouldn’t be surprising considering where I was), I noticed that he wore a Fitbit. His eyes remained on his Kindle.
I wanted to ask him about material possessions rubbing up against a monastic lifestyle, but didn’t since I don’t speak Japanese. On the other hand, I didn’t want to walk on down the track and make the hard climb up to the temple just yet. So I decided to wait.
I crouched opposite the reading man, and remained silent. The man continued reading. I was curious – to know more about this man on a forest path, needing to know what he was reading about.

He looked up, as if he’d noticed me for the first time although no one else had come up or down the path other than me. He began speaking suddenly, as if he was merely picking up a conversation that we’d been right in the middle of.
‘One by one, everyone is leaving the planet.’
I lost my balance and had to place my hands on the soil to steady myself. He’d spoken in English. There was an accent, but in English nevertheless.
‘Excuse me? What was that again?’
‘One by one. We are leaving the planet continuously.’
‘Are you reading science-fiction?’
‘No. That’s not science-fiction. Us leaving one by one is a fact of life. We’ve never stopped the business of leaving.’
‘Or arriving,’ I said presently, as it clicked.
The monk looked pleased.
‘Now you get it. There is nothing else to understand.’

photo from unsplash.com by Jingda Chen