Kazuhiko Washio (JP)
A young blonde said to me, “Welcome.” Last September, transiting to the airport, at Vienna’s Westbahnhof rail terminus I was suddenly caught up in the crowd transiting to Europe from the east. Side by side, we are waiting for the next train. I could not see any difference between the scene of lots of families with kids chattering, drinking, playing and eating food prepared by volunteers and my own holiday with my family. We share lives to be tossed by the huge force exceeding personal abilities. We are tiny pieces floating around in the world. A young blonde made a mistake?
