New morning

 I really love the writer Natalia Ginzburg, born in Palermo in 1916, died in 1991. I have read every book of hers that has been translated into Hebrew.

Yesterday when I ran to the shelter at one o'clock in the afternoon I remembered a line from her book "The Little Traits", she writes about "the sirens that wounded the sky in the middle of the night and we woke the children up and went with them", something like that, that was their reality in Italy during World War II, and those are exactly my thoughts, sometimes when I sit in those minutes in the shelter, twenty steps underground, I think to myself this is an experience of other times,

Then we come out and our lives seem to be similar to the lives of everyone else in the world, but there is one part of the soul that anxiously awaits the next time.

Our nights

These are the chocolate eggs I bought today at the little store here that has everything. I'll put every two eggs in a bag, and I hope I don't forget the bags at night when I run to the shelter.

Usually the alarms are in the wee hours of the night and I'm always amazed by the three little children, ages three, four, and five, who come running with their pyjamas and barefoot to the shelter.

My heart goes out to them, and I want to give them something sweet.

They run about five hundred meters from their house to the shelter, and sit there with us until they hear the sounds of explosions, wait another ten minutes, and everyone goes home.

The other night I wasn't ready at three in the morning, I put my shoes on the wrong way around, and even when I noticed it, there was no time to fix it, so I ran with them to the shelter. No one noticed.