Just after the storm…
At the waterfront of Mytilini port. It’s Thursday morning.
A crummy Syrian pushes his wife’s wheelchair to the Square of Sappho, some meters nearby . (But it is possible they have been going 8 kilometers long to arrive here, after the risky crossing of the sea.)
She has one foot .The other has been lost by the bombings.
They are wet to the bone by the storm that has just stopped. It’s like they have not even noticed
They tell me how happy they are to be located here.
They want to go to Germany to relatives.
It took me some secs to wonder and realize, why I had been “not in the mood” this morning, while stepping out of the “luxury” of simply a house. Sure, I was worrying about my installments of the tax office, my installments on the loan, the installments of my life .
It’s sure we have lost the meaning of life, (our-Greek chapter lives, which we do experience with worries separated from the refugees’ drama, coexisting on this same isle) while these people next us unstoppably struggle to grab the thread of life by its hair…
I give them my umbrella and leave .
It s them, who show us the meaning of life. We don’t yet see …
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SCRIPT IN GREEK PUBLISHED BY BARBARA GIGILINI , A publisher, reporter and writer of POLITIKA, contributor journalist by the Greek to me team !, Lesbos island
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