One of the saddest things I have witnessed is people facing their own mortality because they have no home.

In August 2015, at the height of the Syrian refugee crisis, I was in the city of Izmir, on Turkey’s west coast.

It was after midnight and along the beachfront people were milling around, waiting for daybreak.

Most had no possessions, apart from the clothes they wore, and no place to stay. Mothers sat on the ground, cradling their sleeping babies.

Many people were gazing out at the Aegean, hauntingly beautiful at night with twinkling lights in the distance across the bay.

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