There is a room in the Hispanic Society of America, a museum so quietly extraordinary that even most New Yorkers have never set foot in it — where the walls tell a different story of Spain. Fourteen monumental canvases, each between twelve and fourteen feet tall, wrapping around you for nearly two hundred and thirty feet of painted Spain.

I grew up hearing it every December, and it always blended into the holiday noise. But this year, it's hitting differently. Maybe because I'm paying attention. Maybe because the song is just absurd enough to demand it.