Someone asked me if the bridge was cold. Cold. I couldn't sleep in the winter, so I covered everything I could: a torn cotton jacket, plastic sheeting, and a cardboard box.
I am a homeless person, a beggar, and a useless person in the eyes of others.
But the old man said: No.
Later, the bridge was demolished. One by one, we all landed.
This is not a tragic story. This is a story that someone remembers.
In this world, if someone remembers, then life is not in vain.
