On my way back in the tram, from Detmold and dear Hajdi – I told you, it was crowded -, and it is a long ride with this tram, but as so much repairing work is done in our streets, it was the only solution to get home, or wait more than one hour.
At my left a young lady took seat, with beautiful straw-blond hair and bright blue eyes.
She was carefully sitting down, and had a telescope-staff on her lap, as well as a mobile in her left hand, which she held close to her nose. Her right hand was not visible in the long sleeve of a lovely bright blues jeans jacket. We did not seem to get out from Cologne. I asked: Is this tram going to Bonn?
Yes, she said. Opposite to us two well-built, beautiful teenagers, the opposite of meager, laughed the whole time, showing each other pics on their mobiles. It was infectious. I asked, whether is was about theme no. 1 they would laugh – they were having so much fun. Yes, they said, smiling sweetly. They were not Germans, but understood my suggestion. I felt happy. Theme no. 1 is universal.

My neighbor says: I have to get out at X.
I said, I never heard of this name. She laughed and said, you do not miss anything, there is nothing. I laughed. She looked happy. She added, what does a blind person need more than living next to the tram station?
I said, sheeply, indeed. Totally admiring her.
I asked, carefully, about having a dog… She said: But there is this hand: She pulled out her right, crippled hand as if to show me a book she reads.
Oh, I said.
I said, you cannot hold the leash AND have a hand free for anything else.
She nodded.
The stop came closer.
I: I suggest you are perfect to get out on your own.
She smiled, said good bye, made the staff long again, stood up and walked out like a ballerina, a bit on tip-toes, with somehow damaged legs.
I was struck. An angel had left.
I love her.
Opposite to me sat a boy, perhaps 13 years old. The young ladies had already left, waving gently at us.
I looked straight into his beautiful eyes, saying. I admire her.
He: Me too, wow!
We sat in silence, honoring the manifestation of courage, beauty, total acceptance, surrender.
I said: I will never forget her.
He nodded and said: Now you are sitting aside of an Afghan boy.
No! I Exclaimed!
Looking at my neighbor, who was not sure what we were talking about.
I was enthusiastic.
I am sitting for the first time in my life at the side of an Afghan boy, I say. My opposite friend translated that.
My black haired, black eyed neighbor looked at me, pleased.
The boy opposite: I am also from Afghanistan, but born here. My mother is a teacher. The boy at my left was somehow allowed to follow this part of family. But he lives on his own, not far from his relatives.
He is here only since two months, his German is still poor, but he learns, he wants to do that, says the boy opposite.
Wow, I said.
He crossed the sea…, he added.
My heart was beating faster.
Then, I asked, he was in Lampedusa?
Yes, the boy with the green eyes said, and his friend nodded heavily.
Tell him, that I was at Lampedusa, too, to see with own eyes and to thank Lampedusans, Sicilians, Italians.
Nro is the name of the green boy, Firuz is the name of his friend.
We looked at each other with respect, Firuz and I.
Pretty terrible, right? I know that hotspot on the island is made for under 1000 people but received in the past, and particularly this years, 3times more…
He nodded, in an adult way. I understood that his childhood was now definitely over. Age or anything else did not play any role, here.

He lost several friends, Nro said like a very alert journalist and mediator. He translated that.
I am so so sorry for that, tell him that.
He did, and looked at me. In German I said, I can imagine what else has happened and what you testified to.
He somehow got it, understood, felt touched, seen.

Our translator observed everything, pleased. He wished well for his friend.

He, Firuz is so funny, he said, he always sees the positive side.
It was worthwhile, right, Firuz?
Firuz repeated it, yes, it was worthwhile.
He does not talk much, said Nro.
I am nodding.
After a while, I say, he has seen too much, we have to be patient. It is so good you have each other.
Firuz says something to Nro.
He translates: He has never sat so close to a German woman.
I say, oh, that is good, you have to learn this anyway. And much more.
Tell him, welcome to Germany, we are absolutely happy to host such daring, wonderful young men.
They look struck. Proud, one might say.
I praise Afghanistan. I say I would have loved to get to know this amazing country, of which I had only seen pics, and had loved them.
Nro says, I was there, some years ago.
He liked it.
I turn to Firuz saying, I would really love to see your country before I die.
He appreciates.
He says to Nro, he finds me very nice.
I ask, I want to have a pic of both of us, but… do you… want it? He nods.
He wants it.
Nro does not like pics of him.
So we make the pics, exchange whatsapp phone numbers, and I say to Nro: Why don’t you visit me one day – if you want?

Bonn main station has arrived!
The boys, right at the beginning of the transition to adulthood, are getting up like young horses, jumping out of the tram, running towards the electric stairs, Nro runs opposite to the flow upstairs, his dark-eyed friend a bit slower.