On the afternoon of the anti-immigration demonstration I go for a run. After a few kilometers I have to go to the toilet. At a Syrian restaurant I ask if I can go to the toilet. Of course that is allowed, and how nice that I am wearing a shirt from the college where this boy studies. He says that he has just completed the Language Preparation Program and will soon start an IT course. I wish him luck, promise that I will come to the restaurant for dinner soon and thank him again. “Madam,” he says, “this is your house.”
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