In the heart of Jerusalem, there is a bustling market where I often wandered as a child with my grandmother. The vibrant stalls were filled with freshly cut lemons and ripe apples. We would always stop by the jasmine vendor, grandma's favorite flower, and we would weave through the crowds, our arms filled with fragrant blossoms. After a long day steeped in adventures, we returned home, where grandma cooked citrus delights using an age-old family recipe. We shared dessert together, each bite a piece of history.

1974