Live Stories





Lovely. All. The thought of waking in the morning and cleaning the house.
The light that shines on the smiling tiles.
The quiet of the hour. Midnight.
In the kitchen fruit on the counter. A bottle of olive oil. A pickled lemon in a jar.
The ticking of the clock that measures nothing.
There is no beginning, there is no end.
It's all experiences over and over, again and again.
Until we're noble in everything we think, speak, do..:)
"אלהים אתם ובני עליון כולכם".
Forevermore with the "good". The only thing that exists.








With Liron Lev




The cypress in the yard lowered its head. His canopy bowed. His looks submissive like an old man. He doesn't cry. Accepting what became of him. I look at him, and things pass between us and the hand extends to caress, to soothe and the heart sends a blessing that everything will be alright. And Tamar will come in the morning talking about the tree, suggesting to raise supports and straighten him. And she will ask Yigal who will consent immediately, and he will suggest to bind him with ropes and attach him to the balustrade of the balcony on the second floor. And they will work the two. They will put a high ladder on this side and that, tying him with ropes, lifting his canopy. Giving him water. Abundantly. And manure will be put in the earth around him and here he is standing tall, once again. And the canopy that is not bound, awakens to a new life, daring to lift its head, pointing to the fluid of life that is gladdened anew in his veins.

The next morning. I look toward him. And a "good morning" is shared between us. Blessed. Calm. Promising.


Director Avida Livny with the singer at the premiere of "The Way Back".



Four children. Black. French speaking. Brothers. A delight is their sight. Gladdening the morning; like the chirping of birds, like buds of leaves. Like the shiny blue sky.

The girl, her head adorned delightfully, colored pins. Her white dress glitters on the background of the shiny black skin. Walking holding the hand of her little sister. The eldest, soft, always something to eat in his hand, reclines to his little brother, supporting him while he is descending the stairs. Will stop for a moment, take the sandwich from his little brother's hands, dividing it in two, and in one swallow, will throw it into his mouth and the little one, following him, will throw the chunk into his mouth as well. Alas, big is the chunk and his cheeks swell, making it hard to chew.

The middle one - sharpest of the brothers. His body skinny. Healthy. His eyes shine with friendliness you can trust. When a car drove into the parking lot, embraced with his hands his little brother's shoulders, moving him away from danger. And when seeing his elder brother standing still, staring, will reach him and with his thin hands, shake him with a slight nudge, "Allez" he will say, come on!

Lingers the little brother, curious about his surroundings, and when noticing that his brothers are afar, will run after them like a dashing deer, his limbs flexible, cheerfulness emanates from him, filling the air with joy.

From afar I hear the merriment of their voices and look out of the window to greet them "shalom". Filled with thanksgiving. Happy to see them. Marching to school.

May their days bloom.

docaviv 2012

Premiere screening "The Way Back" a film by Avida Livny.

“When one's talent completes the talent of the other, the best of the two is expressed. And the result is something beautiful. Uplifting. This is what the director Avida Livny did. Like a melody without a false note. And behind the two will stand the best of the producer Udi Zamberg who made it possible.
And there is a bond, that will always express the beautiful in the other.”


"The sun will set
A young night will rise
To build bridges over a thousand dreams
A tiny star will rise over heaven
And then you'll know
Whom to thank"


"What a son you have!" - With the director Avida Livny's parents.


“And there is a bond, that will always express the beautiful in the other.”

DocAviv 2012 Premiere Screening "The Way Back" a film by Avida Livny.


A story about a horse

Morning. Early. A sound of hooves pattering reach my ears. I think to myself: "A horse with a cart passing in our street." The patter of hooves continue. I peek through the kitchen window and a horse, alone, pattering about, to and fro. I return to my dishwashing, trying to ignore it, in my heart thinking: "Let someone else take care of it." Trying to shirk. And the sound of hoofbeats continues. Again at the window. Looking. The horse turns around, looks about as if searching, as if lost his way. Anxiety emanates from him. I think to myself: "How do you call a horse from a distance?" I decide to clap my hands gently. And the horse comes closer, raises his ears, turns on his heels and walks away.
I awake my neighbor, Tamar: "There is a horse walking in our street."I'll come down immediately says Tamar. "Maybe he is thirsty!" And she will come down carrying a pail of water. Refuses the horse to drink, walks to the next street and the sound of the hooves fade. Tamar goes after him.
I decide to wake up my neighbor Amichai. A good hand has he with animals, and he'll come down too. A half hour goes by and the horse is back in our street held by Amichai, and Tamar walking behind them. "A mare" they tell me. She is led to our yard which is wide and adorned with grass. Distressed is the mare and a bit anxious.
In one of Dick Francis books' I read that horses love carrots. I look in the fridge and pass the carrots to Tamar from the balcony. The mare eats them eagerly. Runs Tamar to fetch more, shying away a bit she feeds the mare carrots.
And the eyes of the mare are looking. Good are her eyes, full of inspiration, soft is the stare, sincere. A deliverance of friendship passing between us. Peaceful she is. And she will rub her head on Amichai, who won't let go from holding her, as if they know each other for a long time.
Stands Amichai with the horse, holding her bridle, from five in the morning till ten,and not the least of complaint comes out of his mouth.
We found a place for her, in a horse ranch, in Ramat Hasharon.
We called her "Tom" ("Innocence").


Morning. Early. Four o'clock.
Leaning on the balcony baluster. Dark sky. Clear. Starting the housework. Happy. On my knees on the floor, enjoying washing them. Dawn arises. Always new. Blessed, promising good.

Pink sky in the east. Serene. Leaning on the baluster. My eyes to the sky. The branches of the trees, naked of leaves, spread like a melody.

Lingering, full of peace and quiet that won't be disturbed. Raising my eyes to heaven.

You are free.


I renovated my apartment. New tiles on the floor. Colorful. Handmade. And Ariel. Sixty years old. Will pave, bent on his knees. One after the other, his hands placing each tile ably, diligently, devotedly. And long after he is gone, I will walk on the floor and can still see him, on his knees, touching lovingly each tile. My face brightens with a smile remembering him.

And it will be Ismail who did the walls and polished the tiles. A Muslim. He came from Turkey seventeen years ago. An instant liking between us. We will sit on the floor together, waiting for it to dry, drinking tea. Quiet between us. Feeling like family.


Sitting at home. Reading. The sound of cutting vegetables from the kitchen. And the sound is fine. Embedded in my mind the word 'honest'. The woman cutting vegetables in the kitchen, doing her work - 'honest'. Pleasant is the sound and the feel - something done sincerely. And I tell her. And her face in perfect harmony and a generous smile widens her face.