There are certain words native to the Jewish tongue ubiquitously. Shabbat. Shalom. Shoah.
Last Sunday, I trekked to the Park Juan Carlos I, an hour-long metro ride outside of Madrid located off of the same metro line I have taken almost weekly to the airport. Staring into my reflection across from me in the window filled with blackness from the underground, my mind wandered back in time to my recent trip to Germany, Ukraine, and Poland.
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