I feel viscerally akin to the people running for their life. I was forced to leave; it was unbearable. But to be forced to leave and to then come somewhere hostile – it’s heartbreaking.

As kids, when we walked down the road to a show in a nearby village, we would speak Polish and if a German gendarme overheard us, he would stop and hit.

Where's home when you spent your adult life away from where you grew up and the people you love reside in twenty different countries?