In one of my flights to P, in the plane, I met this very interesting Turkish lady from the South who had to escape to France as a political refugee with her husband where she started from scratch a new life. She was back to Turkey too attend a funeral after almost 20 years. She told me about the story of her brother-in-law who was killed in a political manifestation and after visiting the country at the end of thosse 20 years, she sadly looked at me and told me with her deeply watered eyes that all those political battle was in vain, all that they have lost, all that has been deyed was so in vain, that war of those times, brother killing brother was such an absurd act.
And as we landed at Basel-Mullhouse airport, she had a joy unpredicted by me and inhaled and said "here we arrived at our Switzerland !"
Well, she was exiled and had "their" Switzerland.
After this unusual flight friendship, P whose husband and both herself lawyers for human rights, P and I, named each of our places "our"s: our France, our Strasbourg, our Monoprix, our Tarabya, our Bakifkoy, our Alsace, our Kiziltoprak, our Migros, our Kookai..