And my room, unfortunately, is usually not very tidy. There’s no filth, but there’s always a bit of clutter. I sometimes think this physical state of my room parallels what my life looks like. I often feel pulled in many directions, thinking about work, school, friends at the same time and unable to totally get everything in order.
My room is the only space in my tiny, shared UWS apartment that is really mine, so most of what’s important to me is packed into that room. The four-picture frame above my bed tells that story: a picture of me with my aging Holocaust-survivor grandfather, beautiful roses from a garden in Jerusalem, three dear friends with me, and my three siblings with me.