t was Sunday morning, 30 August. Hot. In Aszód, 40km from Budapest, Istvan Zsiros was up early. For days, weeks now, the Hungarian media had been filled with stories and pictures of the swelling number of mainly Syrian refugees arriving in the country, heading north and west for Germany or Sweden.
At the capital’s main international railway station, Keleti, a makeshift transit camp had formed as the increasingly desperate migrants waited to board trains for Austria, and the Hungarian authorities declined to let them. Between 2,000 and 3,000 people, including many families with young children, were camped in the station concourse in rapidly worsening conditions. Five days later, more than 1,000 of them would become so frustrated that they would set off for the Austrian border – some 170km (125 miles) away – on foot
Etiquetas: Amor em tempo de guerra