I'm working on a new one, it will take some time but not very long..
I just wanted to say, i'm still here.
and for the meanwhile, here is something small to start with.
Paralyzed apology
To the dear people who following this blog, and to the once who visiting it… I'm sorry, it was a hard time for me to write a new chapter, partly because of the new life: moving to a new city with a baby, and partly because of the war. I became numb and nothing I wrote came out the way I wanted.
I'm working on a new one, it will take some time but not very long..
I just wanted to say, i'm still here.
and for the meanwhile, here is something small to start with.
I'm working on a new one, it will take some time but not very long..
I just wanted to say, i'm still here.
and for the meanwhile, here is something small to start with.
The swamp / Shual Mebulbal
Chazozra Bavadi
She is talking with me about a disappearing identity.
She is talking about how I try to change myself to fit myself into the German everything.
She projects it upon my fear of dying (Denial of self-identity which tied together with death)
my german boyfriend's father wanted to buy for us a present, he wanted us to come with him to a book store and find for us a book. I went through the book shelfs for a long time, and found nothing. in the end I saw Hermann Hesse / Siddhartha and decided to take it. when I showed my selection, both to my boyfriend and his dad, they where very surprised that I haven't read it before. I felt stupid, it didn't occur to me in the same time, that for Germans, to read this books its like for an Israeli to read "A Trumpet in the Wadi" (חצוצרה בואדי) by Sami Michael.
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