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English, 11.07.2019 02:00, justinslusser51111

Which words most clearly show and imperialist attitudea. the white of their eyeballsb. natural and true as the surf c. faces like grotesque masksd. an intense energy of movement

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English, 19.10.2019 18:30, zaynmaliky4748
Th e speaker is relieved to see the ā€˜ā€œblack fellowsā€ā€™ (28) because (a) they provide him with comic relief (b) their grotesque faces are intriguing (c) they provide a sense of verity (d) they make the europeans look better (e) they are an entertaining diversion passage 3. joseph conrad, heart of darkness ā€œi left in a french steamer, and she called in every blamed port they have out there, for, as far as i could see, the sole purpose of landing soldiers and custom- house offi cers. i watched the coast. watching a coast as it slips by the ship is like thinking about an enigma. th ere it is before youā€”smiling, frowning, inviting, grand, mean, insipid, or savage, and always mute with an air of whispering, ā€˜come and fi nd out.ā€™ th is one was almost featureless, as if still in the making, with an aspect of monotonous grimness. th e edge of a colossal jungle, so dark-green as to be almost black, fringed with white surf, ran straight, like a ruled line, far, far away along a blue sea whose glitter was blurred by a creeping mist. th e sun was fi erce, the land seemed to glisten and drip with steam. here and there greyish-whitish specks showed up clustered inside the white surf, with a fl ag fl ying above them perhaps. settlements some centuries old, and still no bigger than pinheads on the untouched expanse of their background. we pounded along, stopped, landed soldiers; went on, landed custom-house clerks to levy toll in what looked like a god-forsaken wilderness, with a tin shed and a fl ag-pole lost in it; landed more soldiersā€”to take care of the custom-house clerks, presumably. some, i heard, got drowned in the surf; but whether they did or not, nobody seemed particularly to care. th ey were just fl ung out there, and on we went. every day the coast looked the same, as though we had not moved; but we passed various placesā€”trading placesā€”with names like granā€™ bassam, little popo; names that seemed to belong to some sordid farce acted in front of a sinister back-cloth. th e idleness of a passenger, my isolation amongst all these men with whom i had no point of contact, the oily and languid sea, the uniform sombreness of the coast, seemed to keep me away from the truth of things, within the toil of a mournful and senseless delusion. th e voice of the surf heard now and then was a positive pleasure, like the speech of a brother. it was something natural, that had its reason, that had a meaning. now and then a boat from the shore gave one a momentary contact with reality. it was paddled by black fellows. you could see from afar the white of their eyeballs glistening. th ey shouted, sang; their bodies streamed with perspiration; they had faces like grotesque masksā€”these chaps; but they had bone, muscle, a wild vitality, an intense energy of movement, that was as natural and true as the surf along their coast. th ey wanted no excuse for being there. th ey were a great comfort to look at. for a time i would feel i belonged still to a world of straightforward facts; but the feeling would not last long. something would turn up to scare it away. once, i remember, we came upon a man-of-war anchored off the coast. th ere wasnā€™t even a shed there, and she was shelling the bush. it appears the french had one of their wars going on thereabouts. her ensign dropped limp like a rag; the muzzles of the long six-inch guns stuck out all over the low hull; the greasy, slimy swell swung her up lazily and let her down, swaying her thin masts. in the empty immensity of earth, sky, and water, there she was, incomprehensible, fi ring into a continent. pop, would go one of the six-inch guns; a small fl ame would dart and vanish, a little white smoke would disappear, a tiny projectile would give a feeble screechā€”and nothing happened. nothing could happen. th ere was a touch of insanity in the proceeding, a sense of lugubrious drollery in the sight; and it was not dissipated by somebody on board assuring me earnestly there was a camp of nativesā€”he called them enemies! ā€”hidden out of sight somewhere.ā€
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Which words most clearly show and imperialist attitudea. the white of their eyeballsb. natural and t...

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