-We are not animals, - Aden who sat next to me on the bus which was heading to Skopje form Gevgelija started a conversation with this strong statement. But this was just the summary of a day which was more like a surreal drama. Because this all is a big lie.

In Idomeni, the small Greek village on the border with Macedonia, at the pub the owner told me that every single day, before midday, at least twenty buses come from Thessaloniki, to unload the refugees at the northern end of the village. They come officially from Thessaloniki, mainly using the transport provided by the K.T.E.L. a Greek bus company. Thats at least a thousand people, plus the groups less well informed and just walk up to the border.

The local Greeks looks at this flow of people with pity. These refugees made their unimportant village one of the centre of the refugee crisis. Until a few month ago the only importance of Idomeni was that the international railway crosses the village. Two kilometers from the northern edge of Idemoni is Gevgelija, the first town, already in Macedonia. The buses stop at a railway crossing. Hundred meters from there is the gathering place. When I arrived there four Macedonian police officers tried organize the threhoundred strong crowd to smaller, twenty to thirty people, groups. These groups were let go by the officers one by one in every twenty minutes. Gevgelija is only two kilometers away. A half an hour walk on the dirt road. On the right the railway, the other side is a cornfield. A few hundred meters away from the town the road narrows down to a footpath. Then comes the infamous rusty rail bridge. But we did not have to cross that. A few meters to the left there is a brand new bride, which appeared in the blazing heat like a delusion. A bridge which leads to nowhere. It comes from the town across the dry riverbed of the Suva, and ends immediately on the other side. There is even a dead end street sign at the town entrance of the bridge just next to a board which advertises the glory of the European Unionˋs Neighborhood Program. I am sure that someone made an awful lot on this, and now I do not want to start cracking banalities on European taxpayerˋs money. Not now.

When we arrived to Gevgelija every single spot was occupied around the station. The platform was full of refugees, such as the street side of the station building. The volunteers of the Red Cross were attending a man, who seemed to be in pretty bad shape.

- We have been doing this for three month. Every single day, - said Kristian, one of the volunteers. They hand out uniformed food boxes twice a day, water non stop, and they attend the injured and everybody who has medical problems. And sometimes, even when they do not believe their own eyes, they have to treat extreme cases.

- A couple days ago a Pakistani bloke climbed to the roof of the train and tried to recharge his phone from the wire there. Then no big surprise the high voltage kicked him back to the platform. He was lucky. Survived with a burned hand and few bruises.

According to Kristian, now there is some sort system, but a month and a half ago there was the hide and seek in the border area. Then they had lost of injured.

The empty carriages of the refugees train moved slowly next to platform 2 just before 5pm. On the platform there were at least a thousand people waiting. The train stopped moving and that was moment when all hell broke loose. Within seconds all remaining solidarity disappeared. Everybody was for himself. WIthin seconds new alliances forged - you push me then I will pull you through the window. Then after a few minutes, when the train became full beyond all imaginations, the status quo was clear for all - I go, you stay, the ones who remained on the platform understood that they do not go anywhere by this train, the lucky ones consolidated their places on board, lost kids found their parents and been handed up to them through the windows, the whole station became quiet. Only the local vendors walked along the carriages offering "Cola, water, one euro". The doors closed, and through the filthy windows the faces melted to one big picture, and the refugee train took off towards the rich world.

Ali, the Syrian, having his asylum papers in his hand was just looking quietly at the train which was getting smaller and smaller in the distance. Ali is an electrotechnician from Hama. He used to work at a local electricity provider, but the civil war smashed everything. he wants to go to the north with his wife and his three sons (8, 1O and 12 year old)

- Here everybody declares himself Syrian. Afghanies, Pakistanis, all claiming that they are Syrians. It became popular being Syrian. But I donˋt care. I only want one thing, put my kids in a good school That is it. Thatˋs why Iˋm doing this. For three weeks we have been living like animals. But I donˋt care. If we survive and can settle down somewhere, all will be forgotten.

I was standing on the platform and it became clearer and clearer that I wonˋt be able to get a place on the refugee train. Ever. I was lacking the motivation  fuelled by the strong will of survival. My motivation does not match of those whom I must fight for a place. I was lacking the determination which makes one push or kick those not strong enough, kids, women, anyone. I was just a weak East European left with the "refugee middle classˋ option.

Right across the railway station was the bus station. A ticket to Skopje cost 6 Euros. The bus was about to depart in an hour time. Of course it departed an extra hour late. On the bus refugees, and local Macedonians travelled together. Thats how I met Aden, the Syrian guy from Damascus.

- You know, I donˋt understand this at all. Here I am. An engineer having a masters in industrial robot engineering. I did not want to go to Europe. Because of the IS, in Iraqi Kurdistan my job was laid off. I have to do something. I have to live. Our group left Damascus ten days ago. We climbed mountains, almost shipwrecked. We are wandering on dusty roads. I donˋt even know to where I am heading. Seriously. You tell me please, where should I go?

- I think Norway...

- Norway... perhaps yes, perhaps they need engineers.

Aden stayed "illegal" in Macedonia. He refused to cue for the hand written "asyl document". He did not have a stamp in his passport. He travelled because he had to, but he was fighting to stay little bit of outside of all this madness. He tried to stay outside of that big fucking lie which grabs everybody who comes a little bit closer to the crisis. Because how should we call when police officers, the representative of the state, are organizing groups at the border and advising them how to cross it illegally. Then the same officers receive these "illegals" at an official police station and offer them legality for 72 hours. No. Not to all of them because these filling forms by handwriting systems are always themselves the bottleneck. Then the fair of lies continues and catching the train, having a bus or taxi is open to all regardless of the papers. And there is no checking because that would threaten to uncover at least a small part of the big lie. And the same continues at the other border, then they arrive to the border of their "dreamland" where they find the biggest lie ever, a fence which was erected not to prevent them from anything, but they do not know that and they do not care. Then they are so close to the place where they are heading, the "reason" why they have started the entire journey. The journey of lies.

Skopje August 8 2O15.