There’s a Ukrainien family of four next to me at the Krakow airport. Two kids and two parents. They’re smiling, holding their passports like nothing is wrong. They’re fleeing from a war and keeping spirits high.
Just the other day, my biggest problem was sprinting two kilometers so I would catch my boss. Imagine sprinting from a country to catch your new life.
I don’t know. I’m a tourist in Poland celebrating because dinner was so cheap.
meanwhile they’re refugees. Should I have a bad time to make myself feel better? Not sure. Not sure.