Khalid came to Helsinki, Finland in soot, only one pair of eyes was particularly bright in the dark night. It is hard to imagine the parting and joys and sorrows that these eyes have seen. He describes Syria without any hesitation. At the moment when the judgment came, those eyes were distinctly uneven, as if a flame was burning. In this way, he likes to come to the bar late at night for a drink.
Wixstone in Helsinki drags luggage away from alcoholic wife. A gamble won him a restaurant. He is generous to those around him. This old man, he is smart but not self-conscious; he is rich but not indulgent. He likes to drink and drink in his restaurant at night.
Refugees are really a heavy topic. In the refugee camp, only one or two can sleep soundly without any worries. They may be thinking about tomorrow's trial, missing their separated relatives, and looking back on the first half of their life when they had nowhere to go. Iraqi friends told Khalid that if you want to stay, you have to be happy, and you have to pretend to be happy if you are not happy.
There is sadness behind hope. If a stranger wants to take root, he must first pull out his own bud. However, Khalid met Helsinki. What is behind the hope? I can't tell, like Helsinki who punched Khalid and then gave him a bowl of rice? Like Khalid who was stabbed, lying under a tree with injuries and playing with stray dogs? Hope, I will not forget in ordinary days, I will not give up in hard days, and the other side of it is still warm.
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