I have often joked with my friends about waking up in a dumpster, completely naked, and having no recollection whatsoever about how I got there. Occasionally there are some props involved, such as a pink tutu hazardlessly strewn amongst the putrid rubbish. Nobody really knows just what events may have transpired to cause me to end up in such a state, but it’s the humor of the whole setting that matters most.
Although the actual details vary slightly each time, we come up with some delightfully elaborate descriptions of this scenario. Of course, it is all completely unfounded because I don’t drink alcohol. In fact, I am probably one of the last people to ever be found in such a predicament. In the end, that just adds to the irony.
He was just walking down the street. It was about on
I didn’t get to see his face, his expression, or even whether or not he was covered with goose bumps from the chilly night air. Perhaps it is better that way. The mystery of the situation adds to its intrigue. Without a face or identity, he doesn’t have to take upon himself the weakness of a typical person. Instead, he remains an icon – a living reminder to all of us to take what life dishes out to us, or in this case, to surrender what life viciously pries from our fingers or off our bodies.
There is so much we can learn this man.
Think about it.
And next time you go to a party, bring an extra set of clothes. Or else you too might end up walking home naked, covering yourself with newspaper, and the night might not be as warm for you.