As I slowed down my momentum to take a deep breath of fresh air, I saw a familiar old man, clad in a ragged t-shirt and tattered shorts, Judging from his unkempt hair, he looked as if he had not showered or changed his clothes in months. The scars on his face spoke of his untold stories, which will permanently etched in his memory, just like how his scars disfigured him for life. He smiled jauntily when I greeted him. Picking up tins, bottles and papers was the only way he could earn money for a living. By looking at how he had lived his life, many people pitied him and thought that his life was full of hardship, as he had to survive on such pittance since his children had left him. However it was not the case. Ironically, even though his pay was not as lucrative as mine, he was happy and contented with his life. This made me realized how fortunate and ungrateful I was with my life. Out of the blue, a loud scream pierced through the air, disrupting my peaceful jog.
“Help! Help! Someone please help me!’’ shouted a woman from across the junction.
Without any second thought, the old man ran to where the voice was coming from. Out of curiosity, I followed him. I stood rooted to the ground and shook my