Despite everything, life goes on

I am in the cheapest room on the fifth floor of a cheap hostel in a dilapidated building just outside the centre of Warsaw. Today, after a short night, I survived seven hours of lectures, which were part of an exchange week. I might be tired, but I am satisfied. I have met new people from all sorts of different countries, learned to describe a soundwave in mathematical terms, and experienced Poland’s culture and kitchen. It is a welcome change from the daily grind that writing my thesis had become.

The room door opens. I have slept here now for three nights and every day there is a new person in one of the six beds. A man of around 30 years old comes in. He has long hair, a worn out sports bag and tired eyes.

“Hi, I’m Otto,” I say.

“Konstantin.”

“Hi Konstantin, nice to meet you! Where are you from? What are you doing in Warsaw?”

“I’m from Ukraine. I’m here to fix some visa issues, then I travel on again.”

I am shocked. I had thought up all kinds of questions like “how long are you staying?” and “have you also been approached on the street to go to a strip club?”. But what now? How can I put my “I’m going to a bar this evening with a Romanian, a Portuguese and two Belgians, but we’re not sure which one” into perspective with his “My country is being torn apart in a war”?

We chat a little more, but the conversation quickly falls silent. I don’t know what we can talk about. The subjects that I dare broach seem completely irrelevant. I don’t dare start talking about all the important things.

Despite everything, life goes on. We go to the bar that evening and get caught in a heated debate about what time of day you should eat a hot meal. I do not mention my meeting with Konstantin.

I see my fellow students also out for walks and suddenly feel alone

Two weeks earlier.

I wake up, go to the toilet and check the news on my phone. Feeling sleepy, I had forgotten that it was the morning after the elections and I was not emotionally prepared for ‘Donald J. Trump, convicted criminal, instigator of the storming of the Capitol, and a politician written off by friends and foes, has brought about a miracle’.

Despite everything, life goes on. I go to university that day. In the train I see the usual bored train stares – which they probably see in my eyes too.

During a study break I walk around the campus and hear about a new climate report in a podcast. About how we will not achieve any of our climate goals. About how, in this century, large parts of North Africa will become uninhabitable. About how we are boiling the ocean with cooling water from data centres, and that the Gulf stream will soon stop.

Despite everything, life goes on. I see my fellow students also out for walks and suddenly feel alone. From the outside you don’t see that other people are also finding things hard. You don’t see that with me either.

What would happen if everyone to whom it applies would have floating red arrows above their heads that say ‘everything is really hard for me’. How many people would have an arrow? I believe almost everyone. And would it help? I, in any case, would find it reassuring.