I wrote my final review of my 2013 trip yesterday; I saved the best--the most important--for last. Yad Vashem was like nothing I have ever seen, and its pairing with Mount Herzl was like nothing I have ever felt.
I cried at Mount Herzl. I had gotten weepy-eyed at various points in my trip, but full-fledge tears flooded me on the tan expanse in front of his memorial. Theodore Herzl's monument was the second one upon which I placed a rock, and at that moment the wind gently lifted the flag above, allowing the sun to peek through and ever slightly illuminate the blue for which this man for vibrantly lived.
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