Once,
I was on the Turco Syrian border,late for the war in Syria, but on time for the migratory crisis.
I was offered an appointment with the unspeakable poverty.
I met the mothers who lived on the wages of their teen agers working in shoe factories in Istanbul. I met the real Super Mario serving tomato koftas and bulgur. I met an Angel of mercy and Meryem from Kobane, who sang for me.The astonished gaze of hunger and chant of those that had found a new life near the Euphrates River.
I saw the surface of the moon. I saw burned up fields. I saw the tunnel that led to other side. I saw the last airport before the war zone. I paid a loath of bred to a Turkmen woman in tears because
she had been late for the distribution.