I found myself looking for him beyond the pages of Elias's novel, among the old men who beg on the streets of Dhaka, or in the madman lying on the footpath, trying to say something in a huff or lost in a hallucination on the open road.
His style and content both grew organically out of the soil of the world he built in his works.
I found myself looking for him beyond the pages of Elias's novel, among the old men who beg on the streets of Dhaka, or in the madman lying on the footpath, trying to say something in a huff or lost in a hallucination on the open road.
His style and content both grew organically out of the soil of the world he built in his works.