My eyes bump into a little boy, he should be 15 years old and no older.
He's part of the unaccompanied foreign minors' group who arrived on Cyprus Island.
So he's alone. He's very thin and has a gaunt face.
He doesn't notice me, he doesn't notice anyone even though he's surrounded by people. He frowns, making an expression of pain, and he starts to cry.
He puts his hands on his head, touching his thick black hair, then on his temples. He begins to pull some air out of her lips and bursts into tears that he can't control.
He bangs his fists against an iron pole, making some noises that are choked screams.
He definitely wants to scream but he doesn't: it's the only thing he can control.
But the tears no, he doesn't control them and they fall like waterfalls that wet his face.
I quickly look around and the others don't notice him.

I feel a stab in my stomach, I feel such a pain that I can't describe.
I approach slowly, I'm just a step away from him and I hug him tightly, without saying a word. He doesn't resist and returns the hug.
I can't tell him that everything's gonna be alright soon, I can't tell him that he will be okay, I can't tell him that he will leave this place soon ... I can't because it would be a lie.
I don't know his name, I don't know why he's crying so desperately among the thousand and one reasons. I don't know anything!
I only feel his sobs on my shoulder, during a hug that lasted the time of a breath and a torment.

M.