I found it. The gas station "EKO" around which hundreds of refugees have been living in tents for months. In direct vicinity to a highway.

I was strolling through the camp and asked myself permanently how no accidents have yet happened in this dangerous spot.


EKO had originally been set up as an interim station for people to move up to when refugees were allowed to cross the border.


When I saw this woman sitting on the ground, I stopped briefly. I squinted and noticed two little feet underneath hers. I went up to her. Since she didn't speak English and I don't speak Arabic, we exchanged glances and hand gestures.


I leaned over her shoulder and was allowed to take a picture of her little child who was sleeping calmly.


This moment wasn't filled with dramatic moods or heartbreaking revelations. Just the silent observation that they are fleeing as well: children.


Small. Defenceless. Vulnerable. Barely noticeable and noticed. Without protection. And in this case with a new home at a gas station next to the highway.