Simchat Torah is, to me, a holiday of the heart.
I first got this feeling many years ago, when I was still deep in the throes of early puberty and a regular synagogue goer. I was also, to be generous, somewhat hideous. Between my pimples, my horrid haircut that often had people mistaking me for a boy, my terribly un-chic clothing, and my mouth full of metal braces, romantic love was unlikely to come my way anytime soon.
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