A few minutes later, I was back at the same place. He was still there, still alone. I sat down beside him. Other people were ignoring us.
I started a conversation with him. At first, he was startled and was silent. As time passed by and he could see that I was sincere, he began to talk.
His name was Arthur Tan. Barely, fifteen years ago, he had been a happily married man with two lovely children performing well at school. It seemed that nothing could upset his beautiful life.
Then, on one cruise, his family decided to go along with him for a family vacation. It was a hectic time for him, but he thoroughly enjoyed their company. Everything went well until one night, when taking over the wheel, he fell asleep. His ship collided with an oil tanker and both sank. He was the sole survivor of this tragedy.
Since that fateful day, Arthur had lived miserable life. With his family gone, his life seemed to lose all meaning. He spent his days in despondency and guilt. His friends shunned him ; hardly anyone spoke a kind word to him, he rarely even saw a friendly human face.
He showed me the brown parcel. He had collected all the mementos of his happier life before the tragedy – his uniforms, certificates and his family photographs. He had wrapped all these precious things and tied them up in the big brown paper parcel.
As I looked at his collection of memories, I understood his sadness. The people in the photographs were laughing and