Suddenly a headlight appears in the distance. My heart beats clearly uncomfortable. The light comes closer and stops at me.
I hear a Hello Sir and quickly put on my shoes to look at least somewhat respectable. It is the Border Patrol. They say I am not allowed here
and have just broken the law. He would have to pass this on to the government and I would now have to pay a fine. This is the no-go-area.
Two hundred meters further there is Belarus. The border is a narrow river, easily crossed. I could be killed at night by war-tested people
with a gun or a knife and thrown into the forest. They do not care about me, I am told in a friendly manner.