Thursday, 28 February 2013

A Lost Man

His hair was white, but dark black at it's root. His nose was large and wide, not sharp on it's end, but well rounded. His eyes were misty and sunken. The lines around his mouth were deep and pronounced. He didn't look distinguished, which was for the best because he wasn't. Instead the man looked like he was a well weathered traveler, which was for the best, because he was.

He would and could talk anybodies ear off for hours about any form of spiritualism that has any known existence. He could win any debate on the merits of any religion. And it was always shocking to everyone that met him that he had no home, and it was even more upsetting to people when they found out that he did not have a home by choice.

He didn't have a home, and when asked about why he chose not to have a home, he would reply with a kind smile "Home never suited me". He wasn't lying, his home never suited him. That was why he didn't have one. He would argue that there are a lot of people that live in homes and it doesn't suit them and that that is why they were unhappy.

People would ask him if he was happy and he would say: "No" And then he would make it clear that his unhappiness had nothing to do with his living conditions. If you pressed him in any other form of questioning you would be met with kind eyes and entertaining lengthy response, but if you pressed him in the questioning about his happiness, after he clarified it had nothing to do with not having a home. He would act like a crazy homeless person.

He was not a crazy homeless person, he was just a homeless person, but he could pretend to be crazy when it suited him. It would only suit him if you pushed too hard in asking about his happiness.

He killed himself. No one knows why. Most people assumed that he was just sad because he was homeless. All agreed he must have been unhappy about that.