He looked up. His pale hair looked white. He looked fourteen going on some age that never was. He looked as if he'd been sitting there and God had made the trees and rocks around him. He looked like his own reincarnation and then his own again. Above all else he looked to be filled with a terrible sadness. As if he harbored news of some horrendous loss that no one else had heard of yet. Some vast tragedy not of fact or incident or event but of the way the world was.
The character described in this passage from Cormac McCarthy's "The Crossing" presents a profound blend of youth and timelessness. With his pale hair and youthful appearance, he seems to embody both innocence and a wisdom that transcends his years. The imagery creates a sense of him being a part of nature, as if he has been there since the beginning of creation, suggesting an intimate connection with the world around him.
Yet, despite his serene surroundings, there is an overwhelming aura of sadness that envelops him. This sorrow hints at a deeper existential burden, as if he carries the weight of a tremendous loss that is beyond mere events. It emphasizes a tragic vision of the world that suggests a profound understanding of human suffering and the inevitability of loss, capturing the essence of the human experience in a poignant manner.
