We got the story and pictures that we came for, but on the way back to the city I noticed this old wreck of a cart going through a field.
As I got out the car I ran over to get some pictures.
To me it looked like relic from the past, the land that time forgot. I shouted at and old man and the young girl, and I asked if I could take some photos. With my broad Glasgow accent, they didn’t understand me. The dad just looked at me, not having a clue what I was saying, but he understood what he needed to. He gave me the thumbs up.
I took about a dozen pictures or so. It was over in seconds, and I was back in my car and we headed to the hotel back in the city.
Its only when I looked at the picture years later, and placing in context with what you see on news channels every day; people fleeing countries in all corners of the world, many coming here, for a better life, as Jolanta did.
I think about rhe young girl in the field and wondered whatever happened to her. It’s been about ten years since I took that photograph; she would now be about 25 years old. Did she stay in Lithuania or did she travel like Jolanta? Is she doing alright? Whatever happened to that girl in the cart?