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Not the passports, no, they are pretty much at the top of my list.
P.M.T. Passports, money, tickets.

And yes, the passports. We tend to take them for granted, don’t we? Ok, there is the bit of hassle when they need to be renewed, and the foraging in drawers, not quite remembering where they were put away last.
But we have them.
I wonder what the percentage of passport ownership is, in the global population?
That little piece of officialdom that grants you that most precious of gifts: freedom of movement.
I never take it for granted.
Each time I pack my passport, I remember the long hours spent translating refugee applications for the Irish Department of Justice. Mostly from Congolese asylum seekers.
With no passport, often no other form of identification.
No papers, no identity, no freedom, not much hope.
Awaiting deportation.

I never take it for granted.

That little piece of officialdom that allows me to pass through ports.

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art, astronomy in pyjamas, dublin, fridays smell of freshly painted raspberry pillars, ireland, the importance of living by one's principles, tourism, travel

Easily forgotten

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