The Mediterranean returned a backpack to us this morning.
“It smells of kerosene”, said Luca, our nurse aboard the Open Arms vessel.
The same kerosene that causes terrible burns to so many who try to cross the Mediterranean.
We laid everything inside it out on the deck.
A Lakers top. A couple of chargers. Clothes, shoes, some hair accessories.
Where is its owner? Will they be able to save themselves from this terrible journey?
We don’t know their name or story. We can only imagine what they went through: abandoned adrift, like their backpack.
In this backpack that still smells of kerosene, there is a world of memories, of projects, of hopes and dreams. A one-way ticket to an unknown future.
Photo Credit: Jean-Marc Joseph