“Ding-dong”. Sunday evening. “There’s a man at the door!” the children come running into the garden. I open the door and there is indeed a man, friendly eyes, about my age within his hands three newspapers and a picture of his family. “Good evening. I am a paper boy and have no other job and three children. I am selling the left over newspapers if you would like one”. I ask him where he’s from “Egypt”. I give him 5 euros and take one of his papers, although I already read it. On the front page stories about desperate fugetives.

That evening in bed I think of him. And I think of the people and young families in the world that are leaving their homes this summer. They feel so close. The cliché: We have so much, they’ve lost everything. “I have the feeling we will be sharing a lot more of our money in the near future”, I say to my husband. He looks at me and nods intuitively. We are silent, because we know it is true. The world is changing a lot faster than we can comprehand.

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