When everything folds away, only love remains.
The guys weren’t surprised at all when I came to the last show. The security guards already knew my face - how many cameras, lenses, and how much dust on my sandals.
Everyone just smiled and waved. I remembered how, at the beginning, I couldn’t even dream of that.
Everyone just smiled and waved. I remembered how, at the beginning, I couldn’t even dream of that.
Afula was covered by a heatwave. It was hot - insanely hot. Plus nine hundred and seventy-two degrees by Celsius, and even more by heart. It hurt and shone at the same time - because the circus was ending.
If it hadn’t been them - I would never have gone.
In such heat - no one would have gone.
But if I could repeat only one day from the whole story,
I’d choose this one.
If it hadn’t been them - I would never have gone.
In such heat - no one would have gone.
But if I could repeat only one day from the whole story,
I’d choose this one.
We came so close to each other - the circus and I. And at the same time, we somehow managed to keep our boundaries perfectly intact (at least that’s how I feel - I hope the guys do too). We stayed at arm’s length - and still, I’ve never felt closer to anything in my life.
One of the girls came to talk to me during the lunch break.
She found me by chance, sitting on a bench, and sat down next to me.
It was probably the most heartfelt conversation I ever had - through a translator - with them.
Actually, the history of my Google Translate by now could be its own novel.
We talked about everything. I told her how deeply they’d settled in my heart, how worried I’d been for them during the Iranian attacks, and she told me that...
She found me by chance, sitting on a bench, and sat down next to me.
It was probably the most heartfelt conversation I ever had - through a translator - with them.
Actually, the history of my Google Translate by now could be its own novel.
We talked about everything. I told her how deeply they’d settled in my heart, how worried I’d been for them during the Iranian attacks, and she told me that...
For the first time, I found the courage to walk up to each of them. Before that, I never knew if I could — or should — say hello or goodbye.
This time, I did it the usual way: typed a message in the translator, went up to each of them and gathered a million thank-yous and even a few hugs.
This time, I did it the usual way: typed a message in the translator, went up to each of them and gathered a million thank-yous and even a few hugs.
They said, “You can come to us in Pardes Hanna too!”
I didn’t understand — did they mean for photos,
or just to visit?
And by then, it didn’t matter anymore.
What mattered was — I was still welcome.
I didn’t understand — did they mean for photos,
or just to visit?
And by then, it didn’t matter anymore.
What mattered was — I was still welcome.
Spoiler — I did come back!
To Pardes Hanna — for a football match,
and to Tel Aviv — outside of the shows,
because I really wanted to surprise them with fruit.
See the “Extras” section.
To Pardes Hanna — for a football match,
and to Tel Aviv — outside of the shows,
because I really wanted to surprise them with fruit.
See the “Extras” section.
Now the circus is inside me — under my skin, in my eyes, in my steps.
Around me — ordinary days, but inside, the ropes are still being tightened,
the arena is being built, the lights adjusted.
And maybe that’s what happiness really is —
to still feel the miracle, even after it’s over.
Around me — ordinary days, but inside, the ropes are still being tightened,
the arena is being built, the lights adjusted.
And maybe that’s what happiness really is —
to still feel the miracle, even after it’s over.