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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