This picture shows Aziz, an eight-year-old Afghan refugee . A documentary by Italian Journalist Valerio Cataldi, titled "Io sono Aziz" (I am Aziz) narrates his journey through the Balkan route, where he and thousands of others are searching for a better future.
"Can you hear me? Can you see me, ma?" says Aziz, lying on the floor under a blanket, speaking into his mobile phone. This is just one scene of the documentary that talks about his journey towards a future in Europe that started two years ago.
The rail tracks, the snow falling heavily, migrants trying to get warm by a fire: this is daily life in an abandoned warehouse next to Belgrade's train station. Aziz lived here at the time the documentary was shot. His four sisters, three brothers and his mother still live in Afghanistan. He has never set foot in a school. His father was arrested near the Croatian border and thrown in jail. "When they took him, I cried a lot, but they didn't let him go," he recalls. Aziz's father was a policeman in Afghanistan, "and the taliban wanted to kill him... That's why we ran away. We walked so much, we crossed mountains and rivers. I can't remember how many borders we crossed."
In the documentary, Aziz smiles, plays with the microphone, draws flowers on a piece of paper, seemingly unaware that everything around him could crumble any minute. He and the other migrants - many are children - must hide from the police.
Whoever tries to cross the border is often stopped and sent back. But they keep trying, sometimes even four or five times. They call it "The Game." They tell horrifying stories of police violence: how they were beaten, their money and papers stolen, and forced to take off their clothes and wait - naked and wet - in freezing temperatures, with dogs trying to bite them. "There is no humanity," says one of them.
A violent route
"When I grow up I want to be a doctor or a teacher", says Aziz in the documentary. Addressing Europeans, he says: "Tell the police to open the borders and build showers, so I can finally wash myself." That was his life months ago. Today, he is in Paris with his father. He has managed to enter Europe, but the journey continues, for him and the thousands still stuck on the Balkan route.
"When we arrived at Belgrade's old station, there were about 2,500 people", says documentary maker Valerio Cataldi. "Everybody's saying the the Balkan route is closed, but facts tell otherwise. The numbers are lower, the borders are sealed and guarded by cops that are capable of any kind of violence". But in the end, "it's impossible to build walls capable of stopping people," he notes.
According to humanitarian agencies, about a 100 people a day manage to pass the border between Serbia and Hungary. "The only difference these walls make - says Cataldi - is that now criminal groups are getting richer, because prices have gone up and its more dangerous for people forced to rely on ruthless individuals."