which is also a foreign country.
Imagine you're a barber and you finally find yourself in a community, even though its made of tents in a factory, so you set up your barbershop, and then you have to close because everyone is being relocated.
Imagine you have five children under six and you are living in a tent and you're the only adult because the other adults fleeing with you ended up in different places, and a volunteer from elsewhere comes and sets up a tent with a heater and warm water and bathtubs.
Imagine you have to leave your home, your country which isn't perfect but at least it's your country, and you don't think you can ever go back because it's been destroyed so completely, and you know a lot of people think you're a terrorist but all you really want to do is have babies, have a big house with a garden, get a job, maybe have a dog, and eat well.
Imagine - yes, you! Imagine you had to move from your nice arm house into a tent in a warehouse. Imagine when you get up to pee in the night you had to go outside, here:
Imagine you love to create good food, and you can do it anywhere, even in a refugee camp.
Imagine your heart got broken every few minutes and then fixed again and then broken again and then fixed again. This is what it's like. I am hearing terrible, awful stories. I attend lovely pregnant mums and see beautiful newborns and young children. I see the look on a teenager's face when she hears her baby's heartbeat for the first time. I see regular people leaving their jobs and families to come and help out for a week or two, or a month or two. I see pictures of untold horror. I see the love in peoples' hearts.