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I was 5 years old when my family went to Jerusalem to visit my grandfather in the hospital. I remember how impressed I was by the green grass, the wide open spaces, the elevator — which I thought could take us from one place to another — and the sesame cookies that Jerusalem is famous for.
Just like thousands of Gazans, my grandfather worked at a hotel in Jerusalem, and he was diagnosed with heart disease that claimed his life 23 years later.
