Question Description
Question are based on the following passage.This passage is from Cait Featherstone, Earth, Song and Sky Spirit: Shadows and Sleepwalkers. ©1992 by Random House, Inc.Hed been in the area a long time, longenough to become background. When he firstemerged, a tall thin dark and silent presenceon the local scene, everyone talked about him,(5) asking one another variations on the samequestion: Who is he? He never spoke and,without any answers, like children chasing theirown shadows, people began to make up storiesabout him. Maybe hed been a Vietnam vet,(10) some would venture. Others suggested that thisseeming monastic stranger had come from someashram in Tibet. Or perhaps he was a Somalianrefugee, his African black skin seemed so thin asto barely stretch around his bones. Eventually,(15) the qualifying “maybes” and “perhapses” weredropped, and fiction was passed as fact.Soundlessly he looked straight throughthings, his eyes telling of unspeakable things.And I wondered. Had he run barefoot, like a(20) crane skimming the surface of a lake, throughthe rice paddies of Vietnam? Had he seen a fatalflash? Were his saints beheaded? Did a torchemblazon on his breast the mark, the scar of war?Had the earth become a molten sea, a hardened(25) moonscape surface? Was there an immutablepoint at which he thought—he knew—that everyliving thing had ended? And so he had stoppedbreathing, had become shadow? Did he knowwhat we would all come to know?(30) Too often to be mere coincidence, our pathscrossed and converged daily. It seemed as if hewas everywhere I went, like a parallel life or ashadow Id owned in another lifetime. Oftenhed be in a cross-walk when I was in my car at a(35) stoplight. Before work in the morning, I usuallystopped at a local diner for coffee and he wouldwalk past the window, past the table where I sat,separated by only a pane of glass. As an assistantmanager of a local bookstore, I usually opened(40) the place early in the morning. He would showup before any of the other employees did, gazingat the books on display in the front window, yetnever looking directly at me.I began to change my routine slightly.(45) Sometimes I would go down to the beach to takean early walk before going into work. He wouldbe walking at the edge of the shore, the sea a bluebackdrop to this moving shadow, this tree withlegs. I began to take my walks at sunset instead,(50) and there hed be, at the edge of a cliff above thesea, at the edge of the world. Hed stand like a talldark crane balanced on one leg. Then poised andpositioned on both legs, hed begin a series ofundulating, flowing movements. In Ina Coolbrith(55) Park in San Francisco, Id often see Chinesepeople exploring the air with fluid movements,their bodies and the air in harmony. Though thiswas not Tai Chi, it seemed clearly ceremonial,religious, holy. His silhouette formed the character(60) of a word in Japanese script; his movementsshaped haiku. What had seemed the figure of ablack crow, a disquieting deathly form, throughmovement became a dark light, a black sun.Then one day, I stopped at the diner for a(65) morning cup of coffee. I walked down the aisletoward my usual booth and noticed that theshadow man was sitting there. He was taking whatlooked like tea leaves from a small leather bagthat hung around his neck and placing them in a(70) cup of hot water. As I came nearer, he looked up,and for the first time he was seeing me, not seeingthrough me. His look was clear, not shrouded withdarkness nor veiled with otherness as I had cometo expect. He had seemed to journey momentarily(75) out of that dark place. I returned his look, noddedmy head. And for the first time since Id seen him,he smiled at me. He opened his mouth, to speak, tospeak to me. And I, in awe, awaited the soundof his voice, the words sure to shape around some(80) thought sprung from the well of a silence heoccupied. A sound emerged, high and light as air,full of jive and jazz, as he said, “Whats happenin,mama?”Q.The first words the narrator heard from the stranger most likely made her feel a sense ofa)solemn respect.b)surprised relief.c)sudden dread.d)deep tranquility.Correct answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? for SAT 2025 is part of SAT preparation. The Question and answers have been prepared according to the SAT exam syllabus. Information about Question are based on the following passage.This passage is from Cait Featherstone, Earth, Song and Sky Spirit: Shadows and Sleepwalkers. ©1992 by Random House, Inc.Hed been in the area a long time, longenough to become background. When he firstemerged, a tall thin dark and silent presenceon the local scene, everyone talked about him,(5) asking one another variations on the samequestion: Who is he? He never spoke and,without any answers, like children chasing theirown shadows, people began to make up storiesabout him. Maybe hed been a Vietnam vet,(10) some would venture. Others suggested that thisseeming monastic stranger had come from someashram in Tibet. Or perhaps he was a Somalianrefugee, his African black skin seemed so thin asto barely stretch around his bones. Eventually,(15) the qualifying “maybes” and “perhapses” weredropped, and fiction was passed as fact.Soundlessly he looked straight throughthings, his eyes telling of unspeakable things.And I wondered. Had he run barefoot, like a(20) crane skimming the surface of a lake, throughthe rice paddies of Vietnam? Had he seen a fatalflash? Were his saints beheaded? Did a torchemblazon on his breast the mark, the scar of war?Had the earth become a molten sea, a hardened(25) moonscape surface? Was there an immutablepoint at which he thought—he knew—that everyliving thing had ended? And so he had stoppedbreathing, had become shadow? Did he knowwhat we would all come to know?(30) Too often to be mere coincidence, our pathscrossed and converged daily. It seemed as if hewas everywhere I went, like a parallel life or ashadow Id owned in another lifetime. Oftenhed be in a cross-walk when I was in my car at a(35) stoplight. Before work in the morning, I usuallystopped at a local diner for coffee and he wouldwalk past the window, past the table where I sat,separated by only a pane of glass. As an assistantmanager of a local bookstore, I usually opened(40) the place early in the morning. He would showup before any of the other employees did, gazingat the books on display in the front window, yetnever looking directly at me.I began to change my routine slightly.(45) Sometimes I would go down to the beach to takean early walk before going into work. He wouldbe walking at the edge of the shore, the sea a bluebackdrop to this moving shadow, this tree withlegs. I began to take my walks at sunset instead,(50) and there hed be, at the edge of a cliff above thesea, at the edge of the world. Hed stand like a talldark crane balanced on one leg. Then poised andpositioned on both legs, hed begin a series ofundulating, flowing movements. In Ina Coolbrith(55) Park in San Francisco, Id often see Chinesepeople exploring the air with fluid movements,their bodies and the air in harmony. Though thiswas not Tai Chi, it seemed clearly ceremonial,religious, holy. His silhouette formed the character(60) of a word in Japanese script; his movementsshaped haiku. What had seemed the figure of ablack crow, a disquieting deathly form, throughmovement became a dark light, a black sun.Then one day, I stopped at the diner for a(65) morning cup of coffee. I walked down the aisletoward my usual booth and noticed that theshadow man was sitting there. He was taking whatlooked like tea leaves from a small leather bagthat hung around his neck and placing them in a(70) cup of hot water. As I came nearer, he looked up,and for the first time he was seeing me, not seeingthrough me. His look was clear, not shrouded withdarkness nor veiled with otherness as I had cometo expect. He had seemed to journey momentarily(75) out of that dark place. I returned his look, noddedmy head. And for the first time since Id seen him,he smiled at me. He opened his mouth, to speak, tospeak to me. And I, in awe, awaited the soundof his voice, the words sure to shape around some(80) thought sprung from the well of a silence heoccupied. A sound emerged, high and light as air,full of jive and jazz, as he said, “Whats happenin,mama?”Q.The first words the narrator heard from the stranger most likely made her feel a sense ofa)solemn respect.b)surprised relief.c)sudden dread.d)deep tranquility.Correct answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? covers all topics & solutions for SAT 2025 Exam. Find important definitions, questions, meanings, examples, exercises and tests below for Question are based on the following passage.This passage is from Cait Featherstone, Earth, Song and Sky Spirit: Shadows and Sleepwalkers. ©1992 by Random House, Inc.Hed been in the area a long time, longenough to become background. When he firstemerged, a tall thin dark and silent presenceon the local scene, everyone talked about him,(5) asking one another variations on the samequestion: Who is he? He never spoke and,without any answers, like children chasing theirown shadows, people began to make up storiesabout him. Maybe hed been a Vietnam vet,(10) some would venture. Others suggested that thisseeming monastic stranger had come from someashram in Tibet. Or perhaps he was a Somalianrefugee, his African black skin seemed so thin asto barely stretch around his bones. Eventually,(15) the qualifying “maybes” and “perhapses” weredropped, and fiction was passed as fact.Soundlessly he looked straight throughthings, his eyes telling of unspeakable things.And I wondered. Had he run barefoot, like a(20) crane skimming the surface of a lake, throughthe rice paddies of Vietnam? Had he seen a fatalflash? Were his saints beheaded? Did a torchemblazon on his breast the mark, the scar of war?Had the earth become a molten sea, a hardened(25) moonscape surface? Was there an immutablepoint at which he thought—he knew—that everyliving thing had ended? And so he had stoppedbreathing, had become shadow? Did he knowwhat we would all come to know?(30) Too often to be mere coincidence, our pathscrossed and converged daily. It seemed as if hewas everywhere I went, like a parallel life or ashadow Id owned in another lifetime. Oftenhed be in a cross-walk when I was in my car at a(35) stoplight. Before work in the morning, I usuallystopped at a local diner for coffee and he wouldwalk past the window, past the table where I sat,separated by only a pane of glass. As an assistantmanager of a local bookstore, I usually opened(40) the place early in the morning. He would showup before any of the other employees did, gazingat the books on display in the front window, yetnever looking directly at me.I began to change my routine slightly.(45) Sometimes I would go down to the beach to takean early walk before going into work. He wouldbe walking at the edge of the shore, the sea a bluebackdrop to this moving shadow, this tree withlegs. I began to take my walks at sunset instead,(50) and there hed be, at the edge of a cliff above thesea, at the edge of the world. Hed stand like a talldark crane balanced on one leg. Then poised andpositioned on both legs, hed begin a series ofundulating, flowing movements. In Ina Coolbrith(55) Park in San Francisco, Id often see Chinesepeople exploring the air with fluid movements,their bodies and the air in harmony. Though thiswas not Tai Chi, it seemed clearly ceremonial,religious, holy. His silhouette formed the character(60) of a word in Japanese script; his movementsshaped haiku. What had seemed the figure of ablack crow, a disquieting deathly form, throughmovement became a dark light, a black sun.Then one day, I stopped at the diner for a(65) morning cup of coffee. I walked down the aisletoward my usual booth and noticed that theshadow man was sitting there. He was taking whatlooked like tea leaves from a small leather bagthat hung around his neck and placing them in a(70) cup of hot water. As I came nearer, he looked up,and for the first time he was seeing me, not seeingthrough me. His look was clear, not shrouded withdarkness nor veiled with otherness as I had cometo expect. He had seemed to journey momentarily(75) out of that dark place. I returned his look, noddedmy head. And for the first time since Id seen him,he smiled at me. He opened his mouth, to speak, tospeak to me. And I, in awe, awaited the soundof his voice, the words sure to shape around some(80) thought sprung from the well of a silence heoccupied. A sound emerged, high and light as air,full of jive and jazz, as he said, “Whats happenin,mama?”Q.The first words the narrator heard from the stranger most likely made her feel a sense ofa)solemn respect.b)surprised relief.c)sudden dread.d)deep tranquility.Correct answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer?.

Solutions for Question are based on the following passage.This passage is from Cait Featherstone, Earth, Song and Sky Spirit: Shadows and Sleepwalkers. ©1992 by Random House, Inc.Hed been in the area a long time, longenough to become background. When he firstemerged, a tall thin dark and silent presenceon the local scene, everyone talked about him,(5) asking one another variations on the samequestion: Who is he? He never spoke and,without any answers, like children chasing theirown shadows, people began to make up storiesabout him. Maybe hed been a Vietnam vet,(10) some would venture. Others suggested that thisseeming monastic stranger had come from someashram in Tibet. Or perhaps he was a Somalianrefugee, his African black skin seemed so thin asto barely stretch around his bones. Eventually,(15) the qualifying “maybes” and “perhapses” weredropped, and fiction was passed as fact.Soundlessly he looked straight throughthings, his eyes telling of unspeakable things.And I wondered. Had he run barefoot, like a(20) crane skimming the surface of a lake, throughthe rice paddies of Vietnam? Had he seen a fatalflash? Were his saints beheaded? Did a torchemblazon on his breast the mark, the scar of war?Had the earth become a molten sea, a hardened(25) moonscape surface? Was there an immutablepoint at which he thought—he knew—that everyliving thing had ended? And so he had stoppedbreathing, had become shadow? Did he knowwhat we would all come to know?(30) Too often to be mere coincidence, our pathscrossed and converged daily. It seemed as if hewas everywhere I went, like a parallel life or ashadow Id owned in another lifetime. Oftenhed be in a cross-walk when I was in my car at a(35) stoplight. Before work in the morning, I usuallystopped at a local diner for coffee and he wouldwalk past the window, past the table where I sat,separated by only a pane of glass. As an assistantmanager of a local bookstore, I usually opened(40) the place early in the morning. He would showup before any of the other employees did, gazingat the books on display in the front window, yetnever looking directly at me.I began to change my routine slightly.(45) Sometimes I would go down to the beach to takean early walk before going into work. He wouldbe walking at the edge of the shore, the sea a bluebackdrop to this moving shadow, this tree withlegs. I began to take my walks at sunset instead,(50) and there hed be, at the edge of a cliff above thesea, at the edge of the world. Hed stand like a talldark crane balanced on one leg. Then poised andpositioned on both legs, hed begin a series ofundulating, flowing movements. In Ina Coolbrith(55) Park in San Francisco, Id often see Chinesepeople exploring the air with fluid movements,their bodies and the air in harmony. Though thiswas not Tai Chi, it seemed clearly ceremonial,religious, holy. His silhouette formed the character(60) of a word in Japanese script; his movementsshaped haiku. What had seemed the figure of ablack crow, a disquieting deathly form, throughmovement became a dark light, a black sun.Then one day, I stopped at the diner for a(65) morning cup of coffee. I walked down the aisletoward my usual booth and noticed that theshadow man was sitting there. He was taking whatlooked like tea leaves from a small leather bagthat hung around his neck and placing them in a(70) cup of hot water. As I came nearer, he looked up,and for the first time he was seeing me, not seeingthrough me. His look was clear, not shrouded withdarkness nor veiled with otherness as I had cometo expect. He had seemed to journey momentarily(75) out of that dark place. I returned his look, noddedmy head. And for the first time since Id seen him,he smiled at me. He opened his mouth, to speak, tospeak to me. And I, in awe, awaited the soundof his voice, the words sure to shape around some(80) thought sprung from the well of a silence heoccupied. A sound emerged, high and light as air,full of jive and jazz, as he said, “Whats happenin,mama?”Q.The first words the narrator heard from the stranger most likely made her feel a sense ofa)solemn respect.b)surprised relief.c)sudden dread.d)deep tranquility.Correct answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? in English & in Hindi are available as part of our courses for SAT. Download more important topics, notes, lectures and mock test series for SAT Exam by signing up for free.

Here you can find the meaning of Question are based on the following passage.This passage is from Cait Featherstone, Earth, Song and Sky Spirit: Shadows and Sleepwalkers. ©1992 by Random House, Inc.Hed been in the area a long time, longenough to become background. When he firstemerged, a tall thin dark and silent presenceon the local scene, everyone talked about him,(5) asking one another variations on the samequestion: Who is he? He never spoke and,without any answers, like children chasing theirown shadows, people began to make up storiesabout him. Maybe hed been a Vietnam vet,(10) some would venture. Others suggested that thisseeming monastic stranger had come from someashram in Tibet. Or perhaps he was a Somalianrefugee, his African black skin seemed so thin asto barely stretch around his bones. Eventually,(15) the qualifying “maybes” and “perhapses” weredropped, and fiction was passed as fact.Soundlessly he looked straight throughthings, his eyes telling of unspeakable things.And I wondered. Had he run barefoot, like a(20) crane skimming the surface of a lake, throughthe rice paddies of Vietnam? Had he seen a fatalflash? Were his saints beheaded? Did a torchemblazon on his breast the mark, the scar of war?Had the earth become a molten sea, a hardened(25) moonscape surface? Was there an immutablepoint at which he thought—he knew—that everyliving thing had ended? And so he had stoppedbreathing, had become shadow? Did he knowwhat we would all come to know?(30) Too often to be mere coincidence, our pathscrossed and converged daily. It seemed as if hewas everywhere I went, like a parallel life or ashadow Id owned in another lifetime. Oftenhed be in a cross-walk when I was in my car at a(35) stoplight. Before work in the morning, I usuallystopped at a local diner for coffee and he wouldwalk past the window, past the table where I sat,separated by only a pane of glass. As an assistantmanager of a local bookstore, I usually opened(40) the place early in the morning. He would showup before any of the other employees did, gazingat the books on display in the front window, yetnever looking directly at me.I began to change my routine slightly.(45) Sometimes I would go down to the beach to takean early walk before going into work. He wouldbe walking at the edge of the shore, the sea a bluebackdrop to this moving shadow, this tree withlegs. I began to take my walks at sunset instead,(50) and there hed be, at the edge of a cliff above thesea, at the edge of the world. Hed stand like a talldark crane balanced on one leg. Then poised andpositioned on both legs, hed begin a series ofundulating, flowing movements. In Ina Coolbrith(55) Park in San Francisco, Id often see Chinesepeople exploring the air with fluid movements,their bodies and the air in harmony. Though thiswas not Tai Chi, it seemed clearly ceremonial,religious, holy. His silhouette formed the character(60) of a word in Japanese script; his movementsshaped haiku. What had seemed the figure of ablack crow, a disquieting deathly form, throughmovement became a dark light, a black sun.Then one day, I stopped at the diner for a(65) morning cup of coffee. I walked down the aisletoward my usual booth and noticed that theshadow man was sitting there. He was taking whatlooked like tea leaves from a small leather bagthat hung around his neck and placing them in a(70) cup of hot water. As I came nearer, he looked up,and for the first time he was seeing me, not seeingthrough me. His look was clear, not shrouded withdarkness nor veiled with otherness as I had cometo expect. He had seemed to journey momentarily(75) out of that dark place. I returned his look, noddedmy head. And for the first time since Id seen him,he smiled at me. He opened his mouth, to speak, tospeak to me. And I, in awe, awaited the soundof his voice, the words sure to shape around some(80) thought sprung from the well of a silence heoccupied. A sound emerged, high and light as air,full of jive and jazz, as he said, “Whats happenin,mama?”Q.The first words the narrator heard from the stranger most likely made her feel a sense ofa)solemn respect.b)surprised relief.c)sudden dread.d)deep tranquility.Correct answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? defined & explained in the simplest way possible. Besides giving the explanation of Question are based on the following passage.This passage is from Cait Featherstone, Earth, Song and Sky Spirit: Shadows and Sleepwalkers. ©1992 by Random House, Inc.Hed been in the area a long time, longenough to become background. When he firstemerged, a tall thin dark and silent presenceon the local scene, everyone talked about him,(5) asking one another variations on the samequestion: Who is he? He never spoke and,without any answers, like children chasing theirown shadows, people began to make up storiesabout him. Maybe hed been a Vietnam vet,(10) some would venture. Others suggested that thisseeming monastic stranger had come from someashram in Tibet. Or perhaps he was a Somalianrefugee, his African black skin seemed so thin asto barely stretch around his bones. Eventually,(15) the qualifying “maybes” and “perhapses” weredropped, and fiction was passed as fact.Soundlessly he looked straight throughthings, his eyes telling of unspeakable things.And I wondered. Had he run barefoot, like a(20) crane skimming the surface of a lake, throughthe rice paddies of Vietnam? Had he seen a fatalflash? Were his saints beheaded? Did a torchemblazon on his breast the mark, the scar of war?Had the earth become a molten sea, a hardened(25) moonscape surface? Was there an immutablepoint at which he thought—he knew—that everyliving thing had ended? And so he had stoppedbreathing, had become shadow? Did he knowwhat we would all come to know?(30) Too often to be mere coincidence, our pathscrossed and converged daily. It seemed as if hewas everywhere I went, like a parallel life or ashadow Id owned in another lifetime. Oftenhed be in a cross-walk when I was in my car at a(35) stoplight. Before work in the morning, I usuallystopped at a local diner for coffee and he wouldwalk past the window, past the table where I sat,separated by only a pane of glass. As an assistantmanager of a local bookstore, I usually opened(40) the place early in the morning. He would showup before any of the other employees did, gazingat the books on display in the front window, yetnever looking directly at me.I began to change my routine slightly.(45) Sometimes I would go down to the beach to takean early walk before going into work. He wouldbe walking at the edge of the shore, the sea a bluebackdrop to this moving shadow, this tree withlegs. I began to take my walks at sunset instead,(50) and there hed be, at the edge of a cliff above thesea, at the edge of the world. Hed stand like a talldark crane balanced on one leg. Then poised andpositioned on both legs, hed begin a series ofundulating, flowing movements. In Ina Coolbrith(55) Park in San Francisco, Id often see Chinesepeople exploring the air with fluid movements,their bodies and the air in harmony. Though thiswas not Tai Chi, it seemed clearly ceremonial,religious, holy. His silhouette formed the character(60) of a word in Japanese script; his movementsshaped haiku. What had seemed the figure of ablack crow, a disquieting deathly form, throughmovement became a dark light, a black sun.Then one day, I stopped at the diner for a(65) morning cup of coffee. I walked down the aisletoward my usual booth and noticed that theshadow man was sitting there. He was taking whatlooked like tea leaves from a small leather bagthat hung around his neck and placing them in a(70) cup of hot water. As I came nearer, he looked up,and for the first time he was seeing me, not seeingthrough me. His look was clear, not shrouded withdarkness nor veiled with otherness as I had cometo expect. He had seemed to journey momentarily(75) out of that dark place. I returned his look, noddedmy head. And for the first time since Id seen him,he smiled at me. He opened his mouth, to speak, tospeak to me. And I, in awe, awaited the soundof his voice, the words sure to shape around some(80) thought sprung from the well of a silence heoccupied. A sound emerged, high and light as air,full of jive and jazz, as he said, “Whats happenin,mama?”Q.The first words the narrator heard from the stranger most likely made her feel a sense ofa)solemn respect.b)surprised relief.c)sudden dread.d)deep tranquility.Correct answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer?, a detailed solution for Question are based on the following passage.This passage is from Cait Featherstone, Earth, Song and Sky Spirit: Shadows and Sleepwalkers. ©1992 by Random House, Inc.Hed been in the area a long time, longenough to become background. When he firstemerged, a tall thin dark and silent presenceon the local scene, everyone talked about him,(5) asking one another variations on the samequestion: Who is he? He never spoke and,without any answers, like children chasing theirown shadows, people began to make up storiesabout him. Maybe hed been a Vietnam vet,(10) some would venture. Others suggested that thisseeming monastic stranger had come from someashram in Tibet. Or perhaps he was a Somalianrefugee, his African black skin seemed so thin asto barely stretch around his bones. Eventually,(15) the qualifying “maybes” and “perhapses” weredropped, and fiction was passed as fact.Soundlessly he looked straight throughthings, his eyes telling of unspeakable things.And I wondered. Had he run barefoot, like a(20) crane skimming the surface of a lake, throughthe rice paddies of Vietnam? Had he seen a fatalflash? Were his saints beheaded? Did a torchemblazon on his breast the mark, the scar of war?Had the earth become a molten sea, a hardened(25) moonscape surface? Was there an immutablepoint at which he thought—he knew—that everyliving thing had ended? And so he had stoppedbreathing, had become shadow? Did he knowwhat we would all come to know?(30) Too often to be mere coincidence, our pathscrossed and converged daily. It seemed as if hewas everywhere I went, like a parallel life or ashadow Id owned in another lifetime. Oftenhed be in a cross-walk when I was in my car at a(35) stoplight. Before work in the morning, I usuallystopped at a local diner for coffee and he wouldwalk past the window, past the table where I sat,separated by only a pane of glass. As an assistantmanager of a local bookstore, I usually opened(40) the place early in the morning. He would showup before any of the other employees did, gazingat the books on display in the front window, yetnever looking directly at me.I began to change my routine slightly.(45) Sometimes I would go down to the beach to takean early walk before going into work. He wouldbe walking at the edge of the shore, the sea a bluebackdrop to this moving shadow, this tree withlegs. I began to take my walks at sunset instead,(50) and there hed be, at the edge of a cliff above thesea, at the edge of the world. Hed stand like a talldark crane balanced on one leg. Then poised andpositioned on both legs, hed begin a series ofundulating, flowing movements. In Ina Coolbrith(55) Park in San Francisco, Id often see Chinesepeople exploring the air with fluid movements,their bodies and the air in harmony. Though thiswas not Tai Chi, it seemed clearly ceremonial,religious, holy. His silhouette formed the character(60) of a word in Japanese script; his movementsshaped haiku. What had seemed the figure of ablack crow, a disquieting deathly form, throughmovement became a dark light, a black sun.Then one day, I stopped at the diner for a(65) morning cup of coffee. I walked down the aisletoward my usual booth and noticed that theshadow man was sitting there. He was taking whatlooked like tea leaves from a small leather bagthat hung around his neck and placing them in a(70) cup of hot water. As I came nearer, he looked up,and for the first time he was seeing me, not seeingthrough me. His look was clear, not shrouded withdarkness nor veiled with otherness as I had cometo expect. He had seemed to journey momentarily(75) out of that dark place. I returned his look, noddedmy head. And for the first time since Id seen him,he smiled at me. He opened his mouth, to speak, tospeak to me. And I, in awe, awaited the soundof his voice, the words sure to shape around some(80) thought sprung from the well of a silence heoccupied. A sound emerged, high and light as air,full of jive and jazz, as he said, “Whats happenin,mama?”Q.The first words the narrator heard from the stranger most likely made her feel a sense ofa)solemn respect.b)surprised relief.c)sudden dread.d)deep tranquility.Correct answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? has been provided alongside types of Question are based on the following passage.This passage is from Cait Featherstone, Earth, Song and Sky Spirit: Shadows and Sleepwalkers. ©1992 by Random House, Inc.Hed been in the area a long time, longenough to become background. When he firstemerged, a tall thin dark and silent presenceon the local scene, everyone talked about him,(5) asking one another variations on the samequestion: Who is he? He never spoke and,without any answers, like children chasing theirown shadows, people began to make up storiesabout him. Maybe hed been a Vietnam vet,(10) some would venture. Others suggested that thisseeming monastic stranger had come from someashram in Tibet. Or perhaps he was a Somalianrefugee, his African black skin seemed so thin asto barely stretch around his bones. Eventually,(15) the qualifying “maybes” and “perhapses” weredropped, and fiction was passed as fact.Soundlessly he looked straight throughthings, his eyes telling of unspeakable things.And I wondered. Had he run barefoot, like a(20) crane skimming the surface of a lake, throughthe rice paddies of Vietnam? Had he seen a fatalflash? Were his saints beheaded? Did a torchemblazon on his breast the mark, the scar of war?Had the earth become a molten sea, a hardened(25) moonscape surface? Was there an immutablepoint at which he thought—he knew—that everyliving thing had ended? And so he had stoppedbreathing, had become shadow? Did he knowwhat we would all come to know?(30) Too often to be mere coincidence, our pathscrossed and converged daily. It seemed as if hewas everywhere I went, like a parallel life or ashadow Id owned in another lifetime. Oftenhed be in a cross-walk when I was in my car at a(35) stoplight. Before work in the morning, I usuallystopped at a local diner for coffee and he wouldwalk past the window, past the table where I sat,separated by only a pane of glass. As an assistantmanager of a local bookstore, I usually opened(40) the place early in the morning. He would showup before any of the other employees did, gazingat the books on display in the front window, yetnever looking directly at me.I began to change my routine slightly.(45) Sometimes I would go down to the beach to takean early walk before going into work. He wouldbe walking at the edge of the shore, the sea a bluebackdrop to this moving shadow, this tree withlegs. I began to take my walks at sunset instead,(50) and there hed be, at the edge of a cliff above thesea, at the edge of the world. Hed stand like a talldark crane balanced on one leg. Then poised andpositioned on both legs, hed begin a series ofundulating, flowing movements. In Ina Coolbrith(55) Park in San Francisco, Id often see Chinesepeople exploring the air with fluid movements,their bodies and the air in harmony. Though thiswas not Tai Chi, it seemed clearly ceremonial,religious, holy. His silhouette formed the character(60) of a word in Japanese script; his movementsshaped haiku. What had seemed the figure of ablack crow, a disquieting deathly form, throughmovement became a dark light, a black sun.Then one day, I stopped at the diner for a(65) morning cup of coffee. I walked down the aisletoward my usual booth and noticed that theshadow man was sitting there. He was taking whatlooked like tea leaves from a small leather bagthat hung around his neck and placing them in a(70) cup of hot water. As I came nearer, he looked up,and for the first time he was seeing me, not seeingthrough me. His look was clear, not shrouded withdarkness nor veiled with otherness as I had cometo expect. He had seemed to journey momentarily(75) out of that dark place. I returned his look, noddedmy head. And for the first time since Id seen him,he smiled at me. He opened his mouth, to speak, tospeak to me. And I, in awe, awaited the soundof his voice, the words sure to shape around some(80) thought sprung from the well of a silence heoccupied. A sound emerged, high and light as air,full of jive and jazz, as he said, “Whats happenin,mama?”Q.The first words the narrator heard from the stranger most likely made her feel a sense ofa)solemn respect.b)surprised relief.c)sudden dread.d)deep tranquility.Correct answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? theory, EduRev gives you an ample number of questions to practice Question are based on the following passage.This passage is from Cait Featherstone, Earth, Song and Sky Spirit: Shadows and Sleepwalkers. ©1992 by Random House, Inc.Hed been in the area a long time, longenough to become background. When he firstemerged, a tall thin dark and silent presenceon the local scene, everyone talked about him,(5) asking one another variations on the samequestion: Who is he? He never spoke and,without any answers, like children chasing theirown shadows, people began to make up storiesabout him. Maybe hed been a Vietnam vet,(10) some would venture. Others suggested that thisseeming monastic stranger had come from someashram in Tibet. Or perhaps he was a Somalianrefugee, his African black skin seemed so thin asto barely stretch around his bones. Eventually,(15) the qualifying “maybes” and “perhapses” weredropped, and fiction was passed as fact.Soundlessly he looked straight throughthings, his eyes telling of unspeakable things.And I wondered. Had he run barefoot, like a(20) crane skimming the surface of a lake, throughthe rice paddies of Vietnam? Had he seen a fatalflash? Were his saints beheaded? Did a torchemblazon on his breast the mark, the scar of war?Had the earth become a molten sea, a hardened(25) moonscape surface? Was there an immutablepoint at which he thought—he knew—that everyliving thing had ended? And so he had stoppedbreathing, had become shadow? Did he knowwhat we would all come to know?(30) Too often to be mere coincidence, our pathscrossed and converged daily. It seemed as if hewas everywhere I went, like a parallel life or ashadow Id owned in another lifetime. Oftenhed be in a cross-walk when I was in my car at a(35) stoplight. Before work in the morning, I usuallystopped at a local diner for coffee and he wouldwalk past the window, past the table where I sat,separated by only a pane of glass. As an assistantmanager of a local bookstore, I usually opened(40) the place early in the morning. He would showup before any of the other employees did, gazingat the books on display in the front window, yetnever looking directly at me.I began to change my routine slightly.(45) Sometimes I would go down to the beach to takean early walk before going into work. He wouldbe walking at the edge of the shore, the sea a bluebackdrop to this moving shadow, this tree withlegs. I began to take my walks at sunset instead,(50) and there hed be, at the edge of a cliff above thesea, at the edge of the world. Hed stand like a talldark crane balanced on one leg. Then poised andpositioned on both legs, hed begin a series ofundulating, flowing movements. In Ina Coolbrith(55) Park in San Francisco, Id often see Chinesepeople exploring the air with fluid movements,their bodies and the air in harmony. Though thiswas not Tai Chi, it seemed clearly ceremonial,religious, holy. His silhouette formed the character(60) of a word in Japanese script; his movementsshaped haiku. What had seemed the figure of ablack crow, a disquieting deathly form, throughmovement became a dark light, a black sun.Then one day, I stopped at the diner for a(65) morning cup of coffee. I walked down the aisletoward my usual booth and noticed that theshadow man was sitting there. He was taking whatlooked like tea leaves from a small leather bagthat hung around his neck and placing them in a(70) cup of hot water. As I came nearer, he looked up,and for the first time he was seeing me, not seeingthrough me. His look was clear, not shrouded withdarkness nor veiled with otherness as I had cometo expect. He had seemed to journey momentarily(75) out of that dark place. I returned his look, noddedmy head. And for the first time since Id seen him,he smiled at me. He opened his mouth, to speak, tospeak to me. And I, in awe, awaited the soundof his voice, the words sure to shape around some(80) thought sprung from the well of a silence heoccupied. A sound emerged, high and light as air,full of jive and jazz, as he said, “Whats happenin,mama?”Q.The first words the narrator heard from the stranger most likely made her feel a sense ofa)solemn respect.b)surprised relief.c)sudden dread.d)deep tranquility.Correct answer is option 'B'. Can you explain this answer? tests, examples and also practice SAT tests.