It must have been five years ago when we met. He was bearded and was
mumbling something to himself. He had been drinking the same cup of
coffee for what I could only imagine had been hours. Before him sat a
pile of neatly stacked spiral bound notebooks. On the cover of each,
written in Magic Marker, were the simple words: "Bob's World."
But what was inside?
I tried to get a glimpse, but it was hard. The man, whose name I would later learn was indeed Bob, was scribbling something, but what? His free hand covered the frantic hand that was scribbling and drawing ... something.
I finished my coffee. But I waited there. I had to find out what was in
the notebooks! What mysteries did they reveal? What insight or glimpse
would they give me into this strange man's soul?
Coffee shops all around the world are full of people like Bob, who sit drinking the
same cup of coffee for hours on end, mumbling to themselves, throwing an occasional odd glance at a fellow customer, a glance that sometimes would send a smile, and sometimes (more often than not) a chill.
For now, this is all I will say about Bob, and Bob's world, and how we came
to meet. In the coming weeks, you the reader will be getting a glimpse
of just what his odd man was scribbling in those notebooks.
I only ask you one favor:
Please do not ever ask me what his drawings mean. I ask this in part (and mostly because) I truly fear the answer.
