In Dzaleka refugee camp, clothing arrives already speaking. T shirts carry slogans, jokes, dreams, confidence, rebellion, joy. None of them chosen by the children who wear them.

I found myself reading the messages before the faces. Words like strength, freedom, world changer, happiness. They land here by accident, passed along through donation boxes and long journeys, stripped of their original context.

What struck me was the quiet contrast. These messages were written for lives elsewhere, yet they now rest on small shoulders shaped by displacement and uncertainty. The children wear what arrives, not what reflects who they are or what they hope to become.

Still, they stand there with dignity. Not defined by the words on their clothes. Only carrying them, for now.