In small tents in

the Greek border town of Idomeni, a Yazidi family lives among thousands of other refugees.

Nadia, Nawaf and their children have fled Iraq following the IS genocide of Yazidis in 2014 and are hoping for a new life in Germany.

In the temporary refugee camp, a daily life is experienced in limbo, where the children play while the adults alternately play cards, alternately talk incessantly to deal with their sorrows and worries.

Yasir is alone in the camp, his son is in Germany with relatives, his wife Khalida has been a prisoner of IS for almost two years.

It is simply terrible life stories and an unreasonable existence that David Aronowitsch documents, and he does so with a sensitivity and respect that is impressive.

There is nothing reveling in horrors here, just a patient listening.

As is usual with Aronowitsch, who tirelessly and successfully portrayed people on the run, not least in animated short films such as Hidden and Slaves (with Hanna Heilborn).

There is a lot

to listen to here and it never gets annoying.

Men who show countless mobile pictures of their families, dead or alive, and carefully tell what everyone's names are, where they live or where they were killed.

Or the boys Musafer and Saber who witness a tragic drowning accident of two friends and process their grief through open, naked conversations about how they feel.

Maybe it's all the talk, all the experiences shared that make these people survive?

Not only memories

and experiences are shared,

but

also knowledge of the arbitrary asylum policy that seems to change all the time.

Is Germany good now?

What are rumors and what is true?

Is it possible to bribe the police so that they do not take even fingerprints and thus escape the Dublin Convention?

The people in Idomeni have acquired expert knowledge and drive that would make skinny recruitment companies spin.

The material is really as messy as life for the families, with moves to new camps, successes, setbacks and reunions.

Aronowitsch has solved it nicely with chapter divisions and descriptive titles that sort out any ambiguities.

Ridiculously simple, but just the steady storytelling hand needed.

Photographer Pia Lehto

must have some kind of supernatural ability to make herself invisible, she crawls close by and captures the most candid conversations in a seemingly natural way without sacrificing good camera angles and nice cuts.

Most impressive is the work with the children, of course marked by war and grief, but also preoccupied with mobile games, play and meaningless conversations about which shoe brands are the coolest. 

Idomeni is a quiet and respectful listening, where people can be more than their problems.

If children cry, they cry.

If they laugh, they laugh.

Both darkness and light in a hopelessly boring refugee camp deserve to be taken seriously and that is exactly what Idomeni does.