Who needs Waldo anyway?!

I realised that life is kind of like a page in one of those Where's Waldo books. Same overwhelming mess of ill-suited elements. A big fat chaos with no sense of purpose or direction. But for those paying close attention, interwoven in the messy whole are sneaky dashes of funny details. A striped-shorts-wearing Santa snorkling. Just above the bottom of the sea, just about deep enough for the snorkle to be completely superfluous, for example. Or that one character, running about lost, and so out of tune, as if it had just landed there straight out of another comic.

The funny thing about these details is that they completely take you by surprise. There you are eyeballing your ass off to find our sneakily snuck-out Waldo friend. You are so completely focused on your mission that, obviously, he's the one thing your eye doesn't stumble on. Which is exactly when a funny little detail comes along and rams into you like a suicidal rhino. The shock of surprise is thus, that by the time you recover, magically, it seems like that detail is actually what you were looking for all along.

WHO NEEDS WALDO ANYWAY?!

You think to yourself smiling, and turn the page.

So there I was, staring my eyes out on a pair of issues that had decided to colonize my mind for the week. Over-eagerly trying to find Waldo in the big mess, which again I didn't, of course.

Instead, a funny little detail snuck into my vision.

There was this homeless man who had completely turned his back on life. Or the other way around, I don't who started. But still, he was sitting there radiating careless detachment from this world.

Shoes?!

Who needs them anyway? Same goes for job, friends, family, home, toothbrush, and next in line is probably clothes – although that would force him into migrating South, which may be slightly more problematic.

Anyways.

He wore this attitude as if nothing, absolutely nothing, mattered to him. Nothing except for one little tiny thing. His God-Knows-How-Manieth-But-Still-As-Holy-As-The-Very-First-He-Ever-Drank can of beer. None of that cheap Cara shit for him. No, today it was sunny, and he had just treated himself a Maes.

In style.

He had even got himself a little plastic cup he was pouring his magical potion into.

In style.

Had his hands not been so sore from countless icecold starry nights, for sure he had lifted his pinky while pouring it. Glass decently tilted in the required 45° angle. For a second they went hand in hand again, him and life.

WHO NEEDS WALDO ANYWAY?!

I thought smiling, and walked on carelessly and light as sunshine.