Description
I often wonder what it would feel like to be a girl who grew up in the Old City of Jerusalem. To live with the Kotel not as a distant dream, but as part of my childhood memory. To have its stones, its prayers, its silence, and its songs woven into the fabric of my daily life. To carry within me both the grief and the joy of my people, not as history learned, but as something lived.
Those who grow up beside greatness often forget it is there; the extraordinary becomes ordinary.
But for me, who first came to Jerusalem as an adult, every moment remains extraordinary. Every impression, every step toward the Wall, every whispered prayer is filled with weight and wonder. The Kotel did not shape my childhood, but it has shaped my heart.
