Soul of a Sailor
He had a hard, Jewish, stubborn streak. Every time he ran away from a Yeshiva, a nice, proper Yeshiva his father had to pull some strings to admit him into; and when he said quietly, staring at the floor – I don’t want to study Torah, I want to be a sailor – blood drained from his father’s face, he swayed and missed the chair, trying to sit down, and mom helped him up, weeping silently; and when he left his home and his community, shaved off his beard and his newly-grown “payot”, sidelocks, that have only recently reached the...
In spite of the Wind
On the bus a calm young woman sat in front of her, one of those who believe – long skirt, covered hair and a little book of Psalms in her hand. She was reading in silence, her lips moving rapidly, her serene, biblically beautiful gray eyes studying everything around her – yeshiva boys, people on the bus stop, a granny getting on the bus, and the lips kept moving, repeating the important ancient words. And suddenly Sarah regretted bitterly growing up without faith. How she would like to know all her life in advance, to say all the prayers exactly...
Sailboats in the Mist
By passers chuckled, making their way around the awkward girl stuck right in the middle of a path on the beach, gaping. Some of them turned around to see what she was gawking at. Oh, the sailboats, they were smiling knowingly, indeed, they are beautiful… A silvery shimmer of magic butterflies within a green mist. They were gliding sleepily along the shore, getting closer and parting ways, slowly disappearing into the haze. Dina was shivering, clenching her little fists to her chest. It was so overwhelmingly beautiful, so sad and magnetic that it was hard to breathe. She stood there...
Flowers Of Israel
She has always loved thistle, its dainty flowers and thorny stem. That’s a real man right there, she laughed. Rough on the outside, soft and tender inside. That’s why she called Avi a thistle: normally pretty glum, he would be funny and silly around her, and even tried to write her a poem once. You thorn in my butt, she laughed, I love you even without the po-ems! They were drafted at the same time, so they had their farewell party together. It lasted almost till the dawn, and after everyone fell asleep on the beds and the couches, Avi...
Under the Yellow Lamp
She was always waiting for him by the window. Rain or shine, this window was always open. At the evening she always lit the buttery-yellowish lamp and sat underneath, hands clasped on the table, eyes half-closed, listening to the 5th symphony by Mahler. She would sit there calm and still like deep waters, and only at the beginning of fourth part her fingertips began shaking at the rhythm of the music, her lips moving slightly. Did you know, he told her back then, that Mahler has written this symphony for the woman he loved and sent this to her without...