I picture again and again, young Karol in cold Siberia, walking through the deserts of Turkmenistan, riding on trucks through hot and dusty Persia, arriving on the western coast of India. I think of the joy an eight-year-old boy must have felt in finding shelter, food and acceptance, regardless of his ethnicity, after two years on the move. I imagine him, thousands of miles from home, in a strange land, among strange people, hearing a strange language, yet feeling at home because the kindness of strangers trumps all other strangeness . . . a feeling that has, in a very different way, comforted
...more
