Thoughts keep jabbing out, fleeing paper and seeking trails in past memories. Not sure how to much to share. We started this blog to remain focused on 20 lines, twenty seconds, and, thus, keep it fresh and full of spirit.

But are we writing just half stories, orphaned reasons and decimated truths? We say so, because not reliving the moments spent traveling through the extraordinary, off the beaten path, and in the heart of all things unknown, shaped us, as brothers and founders of Refugees United, more so than anything else.

Stumbling through Cambodia, or the lost nights of Sydney or Los Angeles, all these things communicated the deep bonds that drove us onwards. But perhaps this is only interesting to us? Hell, with the amount of readers on this blog so far, perhaps this all is only interesting to us?! 🙂 Hehe.

Well, Mansour taught us more than most anyone else.

For the first 2 months he awaited his family’s imminent arrival, just like the trafficker had promised. But days swallowed days, and slowly gave way to the merciless onslaught of weeks with, truth serving as the bull-bar strapped to this let-down pickup truck. Mansour soon knew that family would not arrive. Not today, not tomorrow. But this is where he differs. Because they would show up – perhaps in five years from now.

At age of 12, Mansour decided that he had to make the best of himself to one day be able to support his family. He decided that it was incumbent upon him to secure the bed of comfort offered his mother one day, as he had been fortunate enough to end up in a place that afforded him not only a future, but the possibility to help his loved ones as well, should he ever find them.

And so began the dream that Mansour’s family was alive and well, living just beyond the next border, waiting to be discovered. Decimated truths can be deeper than what really appears.

David and Christopher