I was chatting with a friend from Russia last week... basically about having children. She has a son Nikolai's age, but is reluctant to have a second child without her family close by. This led into a conversation about why she left Russia and I was left overwhelmed by the amazing luck of having been born in Canada.
In Russia she had a good job as a curator at an art gallery; however, her pay wouldn't even cover the rent on a small one bedroom apartment and everything else was just as unaffordable. People are required live in small apartments with their extended families and they garden in allotments to feed themselves through winter.
From there my thoughts followed along to our friends from Iran who (since they were born in 1979) were born in a revolution that went from being a hippy-ish movement that was trying to free themselves from a corrupt Shah and ended up with... well... something more restrictive. (Persepolis by Satrapi is a light and entertaining read on this subject.)
However, if you expand the circle wider, to include people I don't know... people for who security, sufficient food and clean water are an everyday struggle, then the lens of my myopic world focuses and I am among the elite. Simply by being born in Canada I am promised good health care, education and the chance for my children to lead productive lives. I may not be among the top 1% in Canada, but I am certainly among the top 1% of the world.
This is the everyday miracle of my life.
This weeks photos are taken by Nikolai. I've trimmed it down from the original 86 photos...