fiction

  • Waiting for the massive bombardment to begin again

    Waiting for the massive bombardment to begin again living in anticipation of the siren— being woken every night at two, at three, at five, running down the stairs— one child in your arms, another stumbling drowsily beside you, trying not… Continue reading

  • From my novel “Last Festival”

    When I was little, we rarely ran to the bomb shelter. Compared to the north and south of the country, Tel Aviv was super calm. Until the age of thirteen, I went to a bomb shelter ten times max, almost… Continue reading