There’s no way around it, I am a big Pixar fan. So a few nights ago I finally went to see Ratatouille. Tinseltown was rather desert on that rainy Monday night, but the mall always has a ghostly feel to it any way. Just what I needed. So I sat and watched. Cute movie, funny and heightened by a very smart French flavour. Paris as beautiful and colourful as ever.

Far into the story, my cell phone vibrated on my belt. There was no one sitting close to me to be bothered by the light, so I flipped it open and read the message.

It was coming from Dakar, 10,000 km and 7 times zones away…

I smiled, happy. Worried the slight beep of the keys would be noticeable to the other spectators, I stepped out for a minute to go type my reply. "Welcome to Africa. Watching Ratatouille right now."

Then I went back to my seat and tried to re-immerse myself into the movie, distracted.

A few minutes later, the phone buzzed again. I looked down at the reply. "Rats on the inspector’s car, my favourite." I frowned. That scene didn’t ring a bell, I had probably missed it when I’d stepped out to answer. Then I looked up at the screen. At that precise moment, the whole rat family was riding wildly on the roof of the health inspector’s car. My mouth gapped.

Some things just cannot be explained by logic. They just are too sweet.