Man is a predator. We know this because our eyes are in the front of our heads. As predators we close out the day around the campfire with stories of the hunt. These stories, like the chase itself, engage our most primal instinct of pursuit. The story's hero is in pursuit of his goal-- the hiding place of the stag or the cause of the plague on Thebes or the question of Desdemona's chastity or the location of Godot. In this prognostication we engage the ability to spontaneously process and act upon information without subjecting the process to verbal (conscious) review. These instincts precede and, in times of stress, supersede the verbal; they are spontaneous and more powerful than the assimilation of an idea. This suspension of the analytical faculty is also experienced in gambling, in combat, in the falling-in-love portion of a relationship. But passivity is the reaction of the prey animal: Sit still and listen while you are told something you already know. Do not fear, for nothing will excite you. But it is enjoyable to pit oneself against the Fates, which is the essence of gambling, and it is for this experience that the gambler pays. Note that we watch a majority of marriages end in acrimony and yet, in love, it is impossible to feel anything other than that one's particular engagement will be the exception. Knowing the "odds," falling in love is nonetheless enjoyable, as, indeed, a gift from the gods.
Jungkook returned and looked at Nayeon, trying to give her his attention and evidently submitting to her involuntarily. Jungkook liked to rest after his labors and find amusement in his circle of friends, understanding his wish, tried to enliven him and amuse themselves. But with Nayeon's circle of friends, that night their gaiety seemed to Jungkook mirthless and tiresome. One of her friends' high pitched voice struck him unpleasantly, and the incessant laughter grated on him like a false note. Jungkook did not laugh and feared that he would be a damper on the spirits of the company, but no one except Nayeon took any notice of his being out of harmony with the general mood.
He tried several times to join in the conversation, but his remarks were tossed aside each time like a cork thrown out of the water, and he could not easily jest with them.
There was nothing wrong or unseemly in what they said, it might have been funny, but it lacked just that something which is the salt of mirth, and they were not even aware that such a thing existed.
That same evening Nayeon went to Jungkook's apartment. Nayeon was standing in the middle of his living room, emaciated, with a pale set face, but not at all shamefaced as Jungkook expected to find her when he returned to the room. When he appeared she grew flurried, evidently undecided whether to call it a night or wait till he was settled so they can at least try to talk it out. Jungkook hastened to her. He thought she would give him her hand as usual; but she, stepping up to him, stopped, breathing heavily, her arms hanging lifelessly just in the pose she used to stand in when she went to the middle of the stage to address her fans.
Jungkook returned and looked at Nayeon, trying to give her his attention and evidently submitting to her involuntarily. Jungkook liked to rest after his labors and find amusement in his circle of friends, understanding his wish, tried to enliven him and amuse themselves. But with Nayeon's circle of friends, that night their gaiety seemed to Jungkook mirthless and tiresome. One of her friends' high pitched voice struck him unpleasantly, and the incessant laughter grated on him like a false note. Jungkook did not laugh and feared that he would be a damper on the spirits of the company, but no one except Nayeon took any notice of his being out of harmony with the general mood.
He tried several times to join in the conversation, but his remarks were tossed aside each time like a cork thrown out of the water, and he could not easily jest with them.
There was nothing wrong or unseemly in what they said, it might have been funny, but it lacked just that something which is the salt of mirth, and they were not even aware that such a thing existed.
That same evening Nayeon went to Jungkook's apartment. Nayeon was standing in the middle of his living room, emaciated, with a pale set face, but not at all shamefaced as Jungkook expected to find her when he returned to the room. When he appeared she grew flurried, evidently undecided whether to call it a night or wait till he was settled so they can at least try to talk it out. Jungkook hastened to her. He thought she would give him her hand as usual; but she, stepping up to him, stopped, breathing heavily, her arms hanging lifelessly just in the pose she used to stand in when she went to the middle of the stage to address her fans.
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