Gemotions

My brother, Mark, had always been a pragmatist. A man of science. So his conversion to Rastafarianism came as a shock. Now, his apartment was filled with reggae music and the aroma of ganja.

I entered his apartment, and I noticed the lack of anything familiar. He sat on the floor, dreadlocks newly formed, and offered me a "herb tea". He spoke with a newfound spiritual gravitas, referencing Haile Selassie and the importance of nature.

The way he spoke about his new beliefs felt…formulaic. He kept repeating phrases and seemed to be channeling something beyond himself. I asked him a simple question about his job, and his response was vague. I felt a growing sense of unrest, as if I was missing a piece of the puzzle.