It’s 8:20 on a Sunday morning. Across the street three enthusiastic young men are slurring loud conversation over a boom box with dance music. They’ve likely been up since Saturday night. A young father walks by with a newborn on his chest swaddled under a heavy coat against the cold autumn wind.
What do we say when we leave fresh flowers, packets of seeds before Anne Frank in 2019? There are stones placed on the base of her statue. “You are remembered.” What are we saying?