It’s dark when I arrive at the pension where I’ll stay while I find a place to live. I speak in halting German to the woman behind the desk. She gives me my room key, and I lug my two overstuffed suitcases up three flights of narrow dimly lit stairs. I call my mom. We connect over 6,000 miles of crackling wire. “Everything is fine,” I say. Then I crawl into bed and erupt into sobs. … read more (Journal)