Where are you? Don’t you get that I can´t even breath without you? I feel so
guilty in a comfortable, quiet classroom, listening to a teacher talk about
something I don’t care about!
What is the teacher talking about? Something about philosophy. At least, that is what I understood at the beginning of this endless hour. I need help following her reasoning. She speaks too fast. And I can’t see how the words I hear about rationalism and illustration would help me in my desperation.
I left you behind. Dad made me board that plane “for my safety.” I don’t know if I want to be safe without you, without a dad, without everybody I love.
He said: you’ll find new friends and great opportunities in a new country.
And you will come back when all this finishes.
But I can´t see the finish line from a distance. I only see fear and
destruction and danger. Your lives are in constant threat.
It was easier when I was with you sharing the horror of the war and the
sweetness of our love and knowing what you were doing and where you were going and waiting for you at home after a day of bombings and attacks and going out to find food when the explosions rest.
But now? I’m like a blind mouse in a room full of cats. I can imagine the
danger but can’t see where and when it will hit.
Please, be safe. I’m in a secure location. There are no bombs or tanks. My
body is not in danger, but my heart is bleeding badly.
The lesson is over. I look at my notebook. Only six words are written in my new language:
Philosophy: Markus, Dad, please, be safe.