Small Boat

by Vincent Delecroix

maybe to find out how inhumanity develops while no one is looking.

And why not clear up a few edifying riddles while she was about it, like how could someone love and cherish their small daughter and be totally unconcerned about the fate of drowning people, or how could they claim to be doing their job in a professional manner while completely losing sight of the most elementary human values.

because I am not a criminal, or a monster, and if I seemed a bit irritated or weary at any point, if I even appeared indifferent to their fate at some point, that doesn’t make me a monster.

In other words, I kind of lost sight of what a human life is, with these shedloads of migrants getting dumped in the sea every day. But it’s okay. After those few minutes, I completely recovered my humanity. I am not a monster.