A SERBIAN WOMAN SPENT THE NIGHT AT THE RAILWAY STATION: Everything that happened to her will surely make you cry!

The confession of a woman from Serbia who spent the night at the railway station in Hungary has Social Media Networks talking!

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She wrote a fantastic status on her Facebook page depicting what happened in her night spent in Hungary!

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She went to Hungary on a business trip and had to spend the night at the train station in order to arrive on time. What she experienced was really amazing.

We bring you the most interesting parts:

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"I understand the following:" I will be alone at night in Budapest and have to figure out a place where there are people, which is open at night and where there are police, in any case. "

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After a feverish reading of various websites, I concluded that I can only go to the Keleti railway station. And thoughts in my head immediately went  to "drug addicts, the homeless, prostitutes, drug dealers, perverts ... Hey, but there surely must be police." You know, I travel often and I am no stranger to traveling alone, but the thought that I would be alone at the train station at night in Hungary was kind of scary.

On the way, I meet a companion with whom I chatted with for a few hours. A Hungarian woman from Budapest, called Vera, Serbian by her great-grandmother. When I presented Vera with my ingenious plan on spending the night at Keleti station, frighteningly said that that was not an option and invited me to come to her place until I go to my meeting.

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Isn't that something so humane and noble? A girl who just met me, a total stranger, offered me to stay with her so I would not spend the night alone in this strange city. Although I was really deeply touched with the humanity, my good manners did not allow me to go to someone's house at 3 am. Vera and I exchanged numbers and Vera sent me messages every 40 minutes until the morning to make sure I was okay.

Dear Vera, thank you for confirming to me that human goodness is not disappearing, there are people who still believe that man is a brother to a man, not a wolf.

Foto: Tanjug/Zoran Žestić

So at 2:30 in the morning (of course Murphy's Law - the border crossings were free, no soul in sight, and of course, I had a maniac driver who drove crazily down the highway), I'm in my business edition with a laptop bag in front of the Keleti station - around me a group of Arab boys who sleep outside on benches, holding their  entire wealth under their head, a little further three prostitutes, and on the other side two men, homeless, I'd say, who watch me in disbelief from where I came from...

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A little further from the Hungarian homeless, some drug dealers are recruiting a couple of drunken English tourists who do not know where they are, and non-stop screaming that Vienna is a phenomenal city and that 'here' is the best (and I still hope that they found the right way to Vienna, if that's actually where they wanted to go) and a couple of prostitutes looking to find customers.

I position myself on a bench, play the Breakers and pray to God that sunrise comes soon. A man approaches me and tries to explain something to me in Hungarian, and after my good evening in English takes out his identity card - a Hungarian police officer in civilian clothes who, in perfect English, says he wants to see my ticket and passport. For logic's sake, I am sitting at the railway station at 3 am, it is normal that I am traveling somewhere. And "more logical"  that I do not have a card, because I am not traveling anywhere.

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I already have a play-by-play in my head, he will bring me in, I won't get to my meeting, I'll pay a hundred percent ticket because "it is known that Hungarians do not like the Serbs and always write us some tickets, because they hate us."

None of that happened. I told him what I was doing at the train station. Whether he was in a good mood or felt sorry for me, or is just a good man, he just laughed and asked if I might want tea or coffee (I repeat, a Hungarian policeman, and me, a foreign citizen) and said he or his colleague would visit me in half an hour to see if I'm okay and he wished me success at my business meeting. He bent over and covered a grandma who was lying on a bench beside me, leaving her a chocolate. Every half hour, he passed by and waved to me.

Foto: Tanjug/Zoran Žestić

Dear Hungarian policeman, thank you for proving that not only corrupt police officers and uninterested individuals exist. No, you are not all the same.

Trains came and went. I wondered what it was like to sleep on the floor of the railway station with a beeping horn every half hour. My answer came unexpectedly in the form of a small, jumpy, sweet girl. It was about three in the morning, she was awake while her parents and the rest of the family slept in a corner.

She ran up to me and began cheerfully speaking in Arabic, and given that my knowledge of Arabic is reduced to 20-30 expressions that are left in my memory, we didn't manage to communicate, but that did not stop us. She sat next to me and continued to speak, took my hand and looked at my painted nails, and chatted happily. I was ridiculous to myself when I attempted to ask her, in a mix of Arab-Turkish, where she was from and then in English, and then remembered not to complicate things and in pure Serbian said Iraq or Syria.

The girl winced, and looked at me sadly and said Syria. She probably asked me where I was from and came to the conclusion that I must be from Turkey, if I understood correctly. At the mention of Belgrade, she cheerfully smiled and nodded her head, and only when I took out cookies, was she really happy. Now, how to explain to a child that does not speak your language to go ask her mom if she can take a cookie. And then you realize how easy it is to agree even when you do not speak the same language. Simply put, with a finger, what is considered uncultured and primitive for "developed and civilized world," you point to the cookie, and the mom and nod.

Foto: Tanjug/Zoran Žestić

She ran to wake her mom, who firstly reacted in fear, thinking something had happened. And you could see the relief when she realized it was word of a cookie, that nobody had attacked or injured her... The mother smiled, nodded and looked in my direction and smiled again, put her hand to her chest and slightly bowed her head in gratitude. She pulled on the child's sleeve when she headed towards me, I can imagine exactly what she said 'Do not be annoying to the lady, that's not nice', but the little one managed to run over to me.

And so, us two, one of 32 and one of 5 years, one called Ivana, the other Nur sat until four in the morning at the Keleti station and ate cookies. Each spoke in their own language. Nur began drawing, she drew her life, her destroyed house, a tank; because that's all she knows about and I started to cry. And then this 5 year old child comforted this woman of 32 years, as a purely human as possible, she took my hand in her and caressed it.

And because of that, I can not allow that some Arab children and young asylum seekers be seen through the prism of future terrorists, because they are children. A normal child who enjoys cookies and like every five year old girl likes painted nails and plays barbies...

Foto: Tanjug/Zoran Žestić

The Holy month of Ramadan is underway, and I was approached by an older lady who began to talk. Often, in Turkey or Arab countries, people identify me as "their own", so the grandmother thought I was theirs. As we could not understand each other, help came from a young man from the neighboring bench. A young Syrian with excellent knowledge of English.

The lady was the grandmother of the little girl, Nur and watched as I talked and played with her and asked me to join them for Sahur or Ramadan breakfast which is eaten before dawn.

And it makes you want to cry when you realize that you have been called to breakfast by a person that has welcomed their old age on a railway station because of the greed and avarice of the world politicians. Which was greeted by European ignorant people that turn their head to the other side when they see them because "they are destroying the city." And when you realize that the person still keeps the goodness in their heart, you are defeated by the fact of how few of these people you have in your environment and how eternally dissatisfied and ungrateful they are for everything they have. And you get to the point where you call people at 5 in the morning to tell them to be thankful that they sleep in their own bed when they wake up.

Foto: Tanjug/Dragan Stanković

And thanks to Nur and her grandmother because they gave me the opportunity to write this story and again feel true gratitude for everything that my life has offered me. I hope they eventually get what they deserve at this end of this journey, that is, what Nur's name actually means - light.

Morning dawned, I left the Keleti station, they stayed there. I hope they are happy as much as I am, because in a couple of hours, I strengthened my faith in people. I ceased to be afraid of night stays at the railway station, because sometimes it's not bad to face your fear and prejudice.

You, my dear friends (who primarily had the patience to read this to the end) do not look away when you see them in the street and do not look away when you see your poor and helpless neighbor. If life has already too much from them, there is no reason that someone seizes their human dignity. If you can, try to be brothers and sisters to eac hother, if you can not, there's no need to be wolves ".

(Telegraf.co.uk)