At the Polish Ukrainian border
Two seats in front of me on the bus to Przemysl was a middle aged man who was clearly agitated. He rubbed his hands over his forearms repeatedly, and quickly moved his gaze from the passing farmland to his mobile phone and back. He typed messages and searched repeatedly through the pockets of his backpack. I wondered if he was headed into Ukraine. If so, his age would dictate he may be required for military service. After the bus arrived…