Obfitość, czyli życie w wielu kodach językowych
I am writing this text in special times, when I witness the arrival of hundreds of thousands of refugees from Ukraine to Berlin. They get off at the main station, with suitcases and bags, uncertain, deprived of the possibility of returning home soon - at least for the next months, if not years. They will have to live in a country to which they did not want to emigrate, whose language and culture they do not know. Now, like it or not, I remember my arrival in Berlin. It was similar, although not in such dramatic circumstances as the current war in Ukraine. We did not run away from bombs destroying our homes, we did not leave brothers, fathers and husbands in the country risking their lives to defend their homeland. Nevertheless, I will never forget the night from July 2 to 3, 1981, the train to Berlin packed with travelers and suitcases, the strict inspection of passports and luggage, the GDR border guards with Kalashnikovs slung over their shoulders at the Friedrichstraße station.
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