The warehouse of souls


You know the Amazon department stores with all the packages piled up waiting to be distributed? In Lesbos, a Greek island, the Mavrovouni refugee camp (a sort of 2.0 version of the one in Moria) is like this. It is "the warehouse of souls" crammed into a tiny space in the utter indifference. They have been waiting to be allowed to travel and to reach their destination just like parcels waiting to be delivered, with a single difference: the packages are free to move while the souls are not. They are blocked in the warehouse due to our choices. And they have been remaining crowded for an indefinite time: they know when it begins but not when it will end… In the meantime, the years pass and the hopes die. Hope is the foundation of our way of thinking, it represents the desire for a happy life that pushes us to search new paths to reach it.

And what happens when there is no hope? In the warehouse of souls there is no trace of hope, you only encounter despair and fear. The adults harm themselves to cover the pain with more pain and the children attempt suicide.

And as I am writing, I think of the profound pain I would feel seeing that my nephew is growing up in a warehouse for souls. Without a home, a school, a space to play and without food. Without freedom, dreams and hopes. Without the right to grow up as a child.

The warehouse of souls is full of people called refugees. I like to call them "people looking for a hug, happiness, dreams, peace", always feeling a trace of nostalgia in the heart.