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Rabotski: Foreign land still feels a lot like home
Shannon Rabotski
There were church bells ringing as we threw open the heavy wooden doors, revealing a lifetime of blue sky. While the sun set behind the Pfälzerwald forest to my right and sent hues of blue, pink and green over the Black Forest to my left, I couldn’t help but understand the lyrics to a favorite song of mine that I have sung so often, but never truly felt: “I was sliding down the mountain, I was burning in the sun, I was crying with amazement at the view.”