There was a park near my house. A homeless old man would come every day and feed the birds. It was the hobby of the homeless man. I couldn't stand it once and asked: Why do you come and feed the birds every day? "They are everything for me to catch this passing life," he said.

One day the old man did not come, and the other days after that. But the birds kept coming. I realized that the old man had reached the happiness he was trying to catch.