Everyone has the meaning of his existence. Maybe he is a street gangster that everyone hates, maybe he is a dirty and smelly beggar, or maybe he is a notorious traitor, but so what? These are just crushing blows of fate. If someone had given them an arm when they fell into despair, maybe they would have had a different life. It's raining heavily and the road is slippery. Can you give me a hand until the weather clears?