Amsterdam, Netherlands

I fell in love with the stories the streets and buildings told. The beauty with all it's pain. I wanted to peel back every layer of it's history. Amsterdam was a storybook. Some sort of fairytale I got to live and bring into existence. I walked... a lot of the time without purpose. The canals and tall, colorful lopsided buildings were endless. There was a ubiquitous feeling of adventure triggered deeper around each corner.

I stood in a small town, scattered with bikers and busy little people, all while in the middle of one of the world's most infamous cities. But as I stood looking at the home of a young girl, whose life went down in history- Anne Frank, my infatuation came to a pause. Apart from the infamous art of Van Gough and the amazing Dutch pancakes, I was deeply captivated by this city's raw past. The conversations, thoughts, and ideas that were created here. How could a city with such a horrific passed become such a dream? I think that's what makes Amsterdam so special. I struggled to imagine children running the streets for their lives, families hiding for months, homes being burned, and mothers being dragged off to their death. But that was Amsterdam's reality in 1940.

Amsterdam taught me something- life goes on. It's going to be alright.