New Man on the Block

I saw him yesterday for the first time and then again today. Exact same clothes, dark skin, and a slow meander to his steps--in Japan, these are sometimes the only signs of a homeless person. The homeless in Japan are vastly different from those I've encountered in Canada and the United States; they have their own society, their own world, they often dress quite well, and they almost never speak to me; they never ask for anything.

In my park, us regulars know each other's faces. But yesterday there was a new face. I wasn't sure he wasn't just a man enjoying a stroll until I saw him again today. Unlike the handful of homeless who frequently hang out here, and can often be seen chatting and laughing together for hours at a park table, this man seemed so lost and so painfully thin, his mint green sweatshirt all but flapping in the wind, with nothing within to protect but a sheaf of skin and bones. At one point, I saw him crouched against a fence, his gaunt face in his hands.

What does one do in this situation? The homeless in Japan do not beg and do not welcome the charity or attention of passersby. But it seemed so wrong to simply keep walking, to pretend there wasn't a man by the side of the road, utterly alone. Should I speak to him if I see him again? Being the cowardly custard that I am, I gotta say I'm a bit afraid to do so.