The strive for a place of refuge is perhaps innate to every human being. The young boys and men from Afghanistan in these photographs have found shelter in an unlikely place: behind the central station in Belgrade, Serbia, they are squatting an array of abandoned warehouses, train wrecks and trailers at a former Yugoslavian construction site. Most of them have been living there for six months and longer. And while they are trying again and again in vain to cross the Hungarian and Croatian borders, the makeshift camp has become an unexpected home in itself: a place not of common belonging but of common longing, of doubt and persistence, loneliness and comradeship. Since these pictures were taken, the camp has been evacuated and cleared, giving way to an ambitious construction project aimed to build a luxury resort for wealthy Serbians and foreign visitors. And while a few of the young boys and men might be successful in their attempts to cross the borders and seek asylum in Europe, the majority of them is forced to find yet another temporary shelter, another involuntary home somewhere on the outskirts of the European Union, and to continue their quest for a place to settle and prosper. When I ask him why he left Afghanistan in the first place, Saed, a young man from eastern Afghanistan, responded with a stern voice: “No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark.”