Fled

My friend has fled his country. Many other people have fled the same country, so many people that I cannot count their numbers on my hands, or even on the hands of all the people in my town. Even if I count every cat, dog, rabbit, fox and all other creeping creatures of the night who live in this town, this will still not be sufficient to match the numbers of people who have fled the country I speak of. However, if I count all the ants in my garden, it is possible that these ants will number the same, or perhaps even greater, than the number of people who have crossed fields and boundaries, seas and continents and have fled their beloved country. What matters, however, is not just the number of these people, great as this number is - like the ants in my garden - but that each has a story to tell. And even if I would write to the end of my days without ceasing, it would not be possible to write the stories of each of these people.