"Like wandering Jews, Mexicans had no true home but the tabernacle of memory."-Richard Rodriguez
I took my coat off, closed the book I'm holding hostage of, and glanced over the tiny window.
I'm here again.
The City of Angels, where my different tabernacles of memory seem to collide, yet merge into other cultures when the least expected.
Aww hani, i really love this post. Seriously, everything about it <3
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