We Are All Migrants

A quick one about a choice

It’s Monday. I am sitting at Gatwick Airport, waiting for my flight to Poland, looking at people around me. Everyone is going somewhere. I am thinking, we are all migrants, you and me have so many things in common, people are good and the world is a good place to be.

There is so much out there I could be worried or angry about. I choose not to.

I am only visiting the Earth for a short period of time. I choose to focus on the good things while I’m here.