Ten days ago I returned from my first trip to Spain for five
years. Last time I was there, I slipped
out of the city of Seville under the cover of December’s early morning
darkness. I recall the walk to the
elegant concrete train station, my backpack heavy with accumulated objects from
my stay, and my mind heavy with thoughts of new friends left behind, and the
many memories I had created for myself there.
I had been there for three months, looking for answers to big questions: What was ...
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