VI

May 13

The piano tinkles softly in the back. I sit and rest. The birds are chirping outside of my window after the rain. Green leaves surround my terrace door like an entrance into a different world — with magic, fairies and hope. I remember driving through a landscape of yellow flowers creating a harsh contrast to the bright blue sky. A drive to Poland. Again. To bring aid to the frontier, to the border where the refugee camp still is, hopefully staying there for a while as discussions are in the air of it needed to be closed down. Getting gas at the gas station I think of probably having been to every gas station on the way to Poland by now. What a funny thought. Eight nights in two months I haven’t slept due to driving — my favorite number — followed by many more nights with little sleep. Who needs to sleep anyway. We can sleep when we’re dead.

Outside. Outside of the world. In a space with no time floating around. In midst green hills and forests, where now and then a white castle or monastery peaks through. I am. With a friend. We both look outside the window spectating rays of the sun shooting to the ground. The sky is filled with translucent clouds spreading the dark yellow light over the scenery. What? I ask. We look at each other and smile at each other. We sigh. Silently we step out of the car. Onto the street and far on to the fields. As I walk I run my hand through the long blades of grass. The wind is hitting against my face making it heard to speak. My eyes are wet of the dry air. We laugh just laugh and raising our heads up towards the sky, the blue sky with translucent clouds. We kiss. We run — away. We laugh. We stop. We go back to the refugee camp, keeping this moment of freedom in our hearts — forever. At the refugee camp I check in into the area with the QR code on my wristband. A beeping sound confirms my identification. I was making jokes with a friend that back home I might miss this sound and will play it every time I enter and leave my house. I rise up my head and look into the room, slowly starting to walk as the people surrounding me blur out in the corner of my eyes. The light of the old mall is glaring. A sterile light like those ones at the clinic shining down on all the dirt on the floor and in every corner or anchored in blankets we are not able to keep clean anymore. I feel dirty — with my blue cleaning gloves on but moreover because I have to bring human beings to their one out of 400 camp beds every night. Side by side the people lay there, the lights glowing bright still on at night to ironically create a safe atmosphere. In safety people are sleeping and not safe and sound. What to do with those who need comfort in a horrible situation, who need comfort while silently lying there staring at the ceiling holding their tears back. How to comfort all the injured people in thoughts with their friends that have just died next to them. How to comfort the pregnant women knowing their husbands are far away from seeing their children growing up happily. Maybe happy but there will be a feeling of something missing for sure one day. We’re all missing something in life. That tears us apart. Maybe even in the moment of dying when all energy fades out of our bodies and physical pain is gone we still miss and feel the pain that we heavily carry around during our lives. The regrets. The heartbreaks. The happy moments we miss. Or will we be free? One day?