When Trees Become Bones: Memories of Harassment

Before dawn on the frigid Saturday morning of October 19th, 2024, my uneasy rest on the cold, dirt-streaked pavement outside the UNHCR office was abruptly disrupted by relentless tree trimmers—harbingers of disruption. Without warning, one stirred me to move my few belongings, interrupting hope for much-needed warmth at daybreak. My earnest plea for a brief reprieve yielded compliance, allowing me to relocate peacefully beside the building, maintaining the dignity of my unyielding banner. As daylight crested, I observed as trees became skeletal remains, igniting memories of 2020’s summer trimming during my hunger strike—perceived harassment stripping essential shade. ⛅ Now, with bare branches and a relentless chill, even a single raindrop can spell disaster, casting a constant shadow of vulnerability on this unforgiving pavement. Since my shelter’s demolition in April, substantial aid remains elusive, leaving me exposed and pleading for shared awareness, humanity, and empathy to lift me from relentless plight and safeguard against the capricious elements. 🌧️ #RelentlessPlight #BareBonesOfHope #EchoesOfResistance #FromShelterToShiver #StoriesInTheWind #Politics #Immigration