The World is crazy, and I am walking on the beach.
The World is crazy, and I am walking on the beach.People are sunbathing, some are swimming.Refugees are boarding vessels with life jackets and their belongings.Some drown, unable to survive the passage.Hundreds, thousands have arrived on these shores—this island where I stand, the coastlines of Europe.The World is crazy, and I am walking on the beach.
What can I do, what can I say?Most of us feel helpless; others protest and shout in the streets.We all swim in the seas and along the shorelines—
most of us without life jackets, but some with,forced to survive regardless.The World is crazy, and I am walking on the beach.
We survive, though scarred for generations,memories of inhumanity haunting us,
places we never wish to revisit—neither in our minds, nor in the world.The World is crazy, and I am walking on the beach.Will future generations forgive us for our atrocities?
I doubt it—and I struggle to understand the current state of humanity.
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