It was a crisp September day in Vienna, Austria. Sunlight dazzled on the blue, green and yellow mosaic tiles of the Stephensdom cathedral’s roof, and its spire pointed up to a clear blue sky. Filling the bustling square below, chattering locals and wide-eyed tourists in running shoes strolled past exquisite examples of architecture, stopping for ice cream cones and street performers along the way. The scene was a page out of Fodor’s travel guide.
And for me, it was just as two-dimensional. I watched as a spectator, unable to read, understand or speak German. Craving conversation, a human connection, the silence I was left with instead was deafening.
Read the rest of the story here, at ZIA, the online magazine.
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