By: Deanna Linder
When I moved to Israel, within a few months I had altogether stopped wearing colors. My mom, being on the other side of the world, and worrying as a mother does, believed that I was depressed. That was far from the case. I can’t put my finger on it, but it had something to do with the ever-so-colorful Israeli wardrobe that turned me off to colors all together. I even had a month-long fight with my boyfriend, when he insisted on bringing an every-color-of-the -rainbow rug to put in our living room.
Two years later, after moving to Israel, for love…my love decided he needed his “after-army” trip. And there he went, to the Far-East, to find himself amongst the thousands of other young Israelis, finding themselves. I joined him in India, where I didn’t necessarily find myself, but I did find my missing love of colors. Every possible shade of reds, pinks, blues, oranges and greens were everywhere; clothes, sunsets, jewelry, food, buildings. I came back...
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