Last year I gave a lecture at a summer school on Lesbos. It was in July, right after the Greeks voted against a bailout. All Greeks, students and teachers alike, were gloomy and stressed. They loosened up, just a little, when three days later Prime Minister Tsipras did formally apply for a bailout, which Europe accepted shortly after that.
At the same time we saw scores of refugees walk along the highway every morning and found dozens of life jackets on the beaches.
I saw Europe disintegrate before my very eyes. I felt I stood right at the fault line of history. That first week it seemed nothing but certain I would return home from Greece as a country that would no longer belong to Europe. I was lucky: I could go back to Europe. They might not. And neither might the refugees. And it made me very very sad.