10 creators | 240 Hours | 10 works
2. Circular dance
5. I think of bubbles
7. Clearly / clearly
Also the head,
A fresh cloud.
After the date,
Everything will be pink,
Antipathy just the opposite.
This, this, this, this,
One hand in pink
The second in God.
8. And she counts, from thumb to little finger
1 , 2, 3, 4 ... 41, forty-one steps And up to one hundred measured steps. The mind wants air so the body exhibits reciprocity and goes out. Emma-what, the plot got tangled up and here you found yourself in a crowded meeting with Abel Fich, a smoky coffee mixed with sour sweet of feta and mango juice, a kicking testimony to the pleasures of dawn.
You look left, right, left again and cross. Abandoned sofas sunbathe on the street corners, new, large TV screen packages slide onto the road. Passover cleaning came earlier this year, So they say, and the neighbors? Renewed. Surely they are now buried in their home, sailing-sailing, and on the horizon of the evening edition. It takes stubborn patience to be an obedient citizen in these moments, patience that is made possible mainly by more comfortable sofas - softer, upholstered in a sponge that remembers buttocks and a crooked back ...
In step forty-nine you turn to Independence Street - you can see with your eyes that you are smiling - "there is actually poetic justice in this," you say - "all the wars and battles, all for the sake of the flowers. See how they dance eagerly on the traffic islands, dance - dance".
..67, 68, 69– no. The eyes catch up, looking for a feature to lean on. Between the balconies a young girl takes off laundry from the rope and forgets a black shirt. On the roof of the apartment above, the Likud flag proudly hangs on it, and on the same roof at a safe distance, the state flag bends down, as if embarrassed - also in blue and white. "Amazing! Someone here has come up with a marketing trend that just refuses to let go."
To let go. . 92, 93, 94 - Ambulance sirens require attention, the dog pulls, you encounter a sign. By mistake, you forgot the helmet at home. Looks up contemptuously and here's an announcement The eternal "Long live the Messianic King" - a picture of the late Rebbe of Lubavitch. The Messiah is dead, and some still believe in him.
What do you believe in?
- "Enough. Now home."
One, two, three, four ... Thirty - hand squeezing finger, thumb to little finger. Just like a baby holding Daddy's fingers, you're smiling again. Remember when we were kids and we still played with dolls? We drew faces on our fingers and built forts from blankets, counting the steps until we were already "big". And now a strange, almost betrayal feeling crept under the blanket. Because here, at the same speed at which a thought changes, you realize that any cleaning is a kind of smearing action. And yes, maybe you regret those wasted moments of washing the floor.
They say - to write you have to read, to speak you have to listen, you have to eat to grow ... - so now you eat. And you remember Grandma Zelda who raised her mother, who fed and contained her, and then the poet Zelda who explicitly imprinted a seal on her ship when she wrote about - "God's silence I will not fear what a man will do to me." And you go to bed reconciled, folding the worries of the day, covering yourself and converging to "this silence of God to me, I will not fear what man will do to me. This silence of God, I will not fear what man will do to me. This silence of God."
101, 102, 103, 104.. .
-She inhales and exhales-
In another hall
9. The woman who loves a sweet flower
At the geriatric center, there is a tenant named Zelda, 93 at the time of her death.
That morning, in the TV corner, Zelda looked at the tenant who was always sitting next to her. His eyes were focused on the square phone the grandson had brought him especially this week. He tried to press the device while a ringtone with a picture sounded from it, but the picture went off and the screen went black, he looked at Zelda in distress 'Do you understand that?' Zelda approached and looked closely, but all she saw was her reflection in the black mirror, she touched her reflection and inadvertently the screen lit up and her finger clicked on a small painting that opened to a blue screen with a variety of 'it?' She asked the tenant who looked at her back in question. "Wait, I'll call Yossi."
Zelda grabbed the walker, and step, step, step, step, walked, walked, to Yossi's seat.
Yossi, the maintenance man solves every problem.
As always he sat on the concrete bench, Zelda recognizing him by the black cap on his head and approaching in her small steps.
'Good morning Zelda'
Good morning Yossi
"Why did you go out?" 'I wanted you to come help him.' She paused. 'to me'
'What happened?' Zelda looked at the green mask that covered his mouth, she did not see his lips move as he spoke, so she felt her own face. 'I do not remember'
'Come sit Zelda' Zelda sat down next to him and looked at him again. 'Yossi, tell me what's going on in the world right now, you tell me every morning and I forget, I'm sorry,' , Should stay at home 'Zelda looked at him curiously' continue Yossi '. Yossi took a deep breath 'But you have nothing to worry about, they say that on the night of Seder Moshiach will come and everything will be fine'
'Yes with the help of God'
'Yossi, I'll tell you something ... I've already seen the Messiah, he's already arrived'
Yossi turned his gaze to her, his eyes pitying, Zelda gave him a firm look back that only wrinkles can intensify 'he has come once, that I will be so good, people have forgotten'. Yossi's gaze went to his own feet, he took the mask off his mouth and breathed to the other side. Zelda looked at her own feet.
For a brief moment, Zelda forgot where she was, who she was and what year she was, she could feel trapped in her small, fragile body, yet she held on to the treadmill. Got up.
step. step. step. step. step. step. 72 Great steps, walking and looking at her lost elderly generation.
One more brave step. She left the treadmill, leaned her back against the ficus tree trunk in the nursing home garden, slipped until she sat down on the ground.
Her hand caressed the ground warmed by the sun. Her face flickered with the rays of light through the leaves of the tree. She suddenly smelled the blossom of a distant lemon tree.
Penetrating the sweet taste of her own saliva.
She whispered to the only person who could believe her, she whispered and only she heard 'Messiah has long since come. He is not a man, he is not an animal, he does not grow or control a street corner. It is just a feeling, distant and familiar that life is renewed ... in a fresh spirit '
10. Sweet Flower Heart Lady Theme
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