Not everybody has a home

Hey Beautifuls!

I may be talking out of the blue here, but since you managed to find your way to this post, I suppose you have a computer or cellphone of some kind. Furthermore, I assume you have somewhere to go when you need to eat, sleep or just be you. A home.

I’m nearly too good at forgetting stuff sometimes. And this, a home, is one of those things that I seem to take for granted. Of course I have a home! I’ve always had and so I will always have, right? Nothing to brag about. Then I see the remains of horrible tornados on the news, earthquakes ruining houses of thousands of families and nuclear weapons erasing entire cities. For a moment I realize not everyone has that safe space of which I have plenty, and I turn a bit sad. Then eventually I stop thinking about it and don’t worry about it no more. Because what difference could I really make?

But many things are hard to understand without having been in the situation yourself, or at least seeing it. This night, I switched trains on the central station of Hamburg. While being there, I thought I’d better get some cash. That’s when I saw him: not especially tall, quite thin and no shoes on his feet (he was using them as a pillow). Since he laid turned away from me, I couldn’t see his face, but I got the feeling that he wasn’t too old either. He had found a spot by a corner where he could sleep without being in the way for anybody else, and that’s where I discovered him.

The vision of that boy would have touched my heart even if it hadn’t been because I could see some of my own friends in him. I know they’ve been in the same situation, homeless with no other place to go. That could have been them. Or rather, that was them! And I used the clock as an excuse not to wake him up, and just leave him too. But again, what difference could I make?

Probably a lot. He must have had a home once too, in another country where he lived with a family who loved him. Then something happened and he lost it. Now I’m not sure anybody even sees him at all. The man cleaning the floor certainly didn’t payed any attention to him, at least. And I chose to go and catch my train as well.

I’m ashamed of who I am at times, but also of the entire humanity. How can we be so self-centered to let young boys sleep on the central stations? Why isn’t anybody doing anything? I’m as confused as I am disappointed. ❤

Take nothing for granted, Beautifuls,



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