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Born Jewish, Living Palestinian (3)

The memories fade jut when it is the crucial point, and in that moment when it is needed the most it slips from my grasp only to feel guilty and return to me 5 minutes later when it is unneeded. This happens or I am simply too shy to speak. That is what usually happens.
Why don't we speak when there is an opportunity? Why must we sit back and watch the smiling dancers? Why must we ignore the shouts and laughs calling us to join?
I hate myself for that. For completely missing the experience. I hate myself for not saying to the tour guide, "you know, I am Jewish."
I wish I did experience the dancing, laughing, and singing. But I didn't and now life is still going on, and now I have an empty patch in mine.




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