The Bubble

A kitchen

vacation

This blog is under vacation. It might be active in September, or maybe not. The blogger might retire. Or maybe not. After all - it WAS the tale of a journey. And what if the traveler reached the end of the road?

The real thing

I am fascinated by life. It pulls me in and grasps me, like a giant wave. The virtual world is but a pale shadow, a reminder of time passed, so different than today. Time where substitutes were the only comfort. Where life were so far away and out of reach.

The neighbor

Sunset at the beach

The rose garden

Jerusalem.

It feels so good

It feels so good to be home.

Lasts (4)

Saturday. Last birthday party in Toronto.

The movers came yesterday, and I can now hear my voice echoing through the empty house. Having been busy in the last days with sorting and packing masses and masses of things, once more I find myself pondering over the question: why do I need all this? I wish to live in an empty house, with nothing but mattresses on the floor, a laptop and an iPod – just like I'm living now. I don’t feel as if I’m missing anything.
We're flying in two days.

Chaos

Let the chaos begin!

One week left

In one week from today we will be going back to Israel.

"When I was very young and the urge to be someplace else was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch. When years described me as mature, the remedy prescribed was middle age. In middle age I was assured that greater age would calm my fever and now that I am fifty-eight perhaps senility will do the job. Nothing has worked. Four hoarse blasts of a ship's whistle still raise the hair on my neck and set my feet to tapping. The sound of a jet, an engine warming up, even the clopping of shod hooves on pavement brings on the ancient shudder, the dry mouth and vacant eye, the hot palms and the churn of stomach high up under the rib cage. In other words, I don't improve."

from Travels With Charley by John Steinbeck