I see rocks, cement blocks, gradually crumbling.
Water flows and erodes them,
wind blows and throws them
away.
In time they melt.
Slowly it happens everyday
always and anyway;
watch it flow:
panta rei.
Warm hugs,
smiles, laughs,
shared mugs.
Honest and rough.
Those blocks that you built,
Not in one off but brick by brick.
might feel heavy on your back now
but they’re the reason you didn’t sink.
by Egle Lorenzini
No Home
Reflecting on recent far-right protests against immigration, Ibrahim writes about his family’s journey to Britain and the odds they have had to overcome.
