There are lives that dwell on the fragile border between life and death. A thin body, each breath as if carried away by the wind, but in the eyes a small glimmer remains: the light of the yearning to continue existing.
No one listens to that inner voice, but if you remain silent long enough, you can feel the faint, persistent heartbeat. It’s the longing for a warm home, to call someone “family,” to hear a soft voice spoken just for you. That dream is so simple it hurts, yet as distant as a lost star in the night sky.
Passersby continue on their way, with a fleeting glance of compassion, a gesture of helplessness. No one knows that sometimes, just a bowl of warm rice, a gentle caress, can change an entire destiny. These seemingly small things can become the thread that keeps a life clinging to this world.
There are dreams that don’t need to be grand: all it takes is a place to sleep without shivering from the cold, calm, unhurried breathing, and a gaze that is not one of pity, but of true love.
And sometimes, that little dream is the only flame that warms the heart, the one that helps a fragile being get through the darkest days, waiting for the moment to live fully in the embrace of tenderness.