Words can change the world. Can and have since we first spoke them from our lips and scrawled them on our parchment.
Standing before Anne Frank’s diary, I find myself shaking with awe and frisson. The cursive between those covers – the work of a young girl – has changed lives; her book carries all the power and gravity of an artifact.
In this city thick with gimmicks and pot smoke, the pages in front of me radiate humanity, history, hope – a feeling I can’t put into words.
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