There was always a man sleeping in the underpass

Man sleeping in a passage — Man lying in the aisle

During my time in Tainan, I passed through this underground passage beneath the railway tracks countless times. Running directly beneath the station, the corridor had a worn, almost forgotten feel to it. The walls bore the marks of time, and the air inside was cool and still.

And each time I passed through, the same man was always there.

A homeless man, it seemed, had made this place his home. No matter when I saw him, he was always asleep—a constant presence in this quiet, shadowed tunnel.

On this particular day, he was there again—lying sprawled out on the cold ground, completely indifferent to the people passing by. He didn’t stir, didn’t react. Whether he was deeply asleep or simply unwilling to move, I couldn’t tell. Footsteps echoed through the tunnel, but within his small world, there was only silence.

In southern Taiwan, Tainan’s climate is warm year-round. If one had no choice but to live without a home, perhaps a place like this—where winters never turn bitter—might be the best option.

With that thought lingering in my mind, I quietly stepped past him, leaving him to his world of stillness.

Comment via

日本語