In a city of clear divisions and extremes, the passions that Jerusalem and the surrounding areas elicit from many, remained utterly undisturbed inside of me. Despite being raised within the cultural cloisters of a church, I felt completely detached from the hundreds of thousands of personal connections being forged with and through the land.

Although bordering on cliché, the power of the countless individual moments of worship I encountered were undoubtedly affecting; if not for their devotion but for what each one meant in the wider context.

For a few moments, whilst standing on the roofs of the Old Town, the various calls to prayer merged into a brief harmonious expression of faith and respect for something more than the immediate and corporeal. It was profoundly moving.

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