Kim Jongin is unlucky: immensely unlucky. The cold, hard ground where he sleeps is a chilling reminder of that fact. He struggles to grasp reality and normalcy, watching the people with homes, families, food and incomes in an attempt to understand what could be. The streets are unwelcoming and the pavement, coated with dirt and trash, and buried within Jongin is a deep longing for something way out of reach: his family.