Child migrants arrive on the Greek island of Kos, from Turkey. Credit: Demotix/Gail Orenstein.
I came to England from Berlin on the Kindertransport in 1939. I was a four year old refugee. Suddenly everything in my old world was gone. Nothing made sense, everything was strange and alarming, even the London buses were red - the colour of blood!
At 14, I was repatriated to Germany against my will; this was even worse. Once again, everything I knew had been taken from me, replaced by a fearful wartime existence. Migration can invoke terrifying feelings.
