@hythm

There’s a corner store that sells homemade dolma—stuffed grape leaves—from a Syrian refugee woman named Layla. She packs them with rice, pine nuts, and mint, simmered in lemon broth. She doesn’t advertise. But if you ask for “the ones with the extra lemon,” she’ll give you two instead of one. “Because you need it,” she says. I’ve become her unofficial translator for tourists. She taught me to say “thank you” in Arabic. Now I say it every day—to strangers, to myself.

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