Opinion Don't ask why, say welcome Israel today

Migration is the lens on which the princess lies.

No matter how thick the mattress, it will never puncture.

You can lie comfortably on a king size adjustable bed that you bought with zero interest and feel on top of the world, and suddenly boom!

she hits you

A sick parent whose pain cannot be alleviated, a missing word that simply does not exist in the lexicon, true friends that you have chosen versus a functional friendship that is a product of time and place.

Dozens of times I heard "how fun you guys are in America".

There are those who will say "Wow, now I would leave everything here, if only I had the option".

The big dream is a foreign passport.

According to the estimate, only in 2020 more than 20 thousand Israelis received a Portuguese passport.

The Israelis are looking for alternatives, so be it.

One eye is watching Zion - and the other is squinting at Israel.

Immigration seems like a tempting and exciting dream: leaving behind the traffic jams, the cost of living, the rising violence, the bureaucracy and the alarms, taking off and landing in paradise.

For the price of an average apartment in Israel, you can buy luxurious houses in the US and Europe, and be left with a surplus. A kindergarten in Germany will cost a third of a garden in Israel. And the peace and the view and nature and the big and wide - all compared to the small, crowded and burning here.

It's a wizard.

And on the surface it's easy, so much easier.

The success stories of the Israelis who traveled and managed are many, there is no one who does not have a cousin who did it abroad and "what is that satisfied".

But the truth is that at the end of the day, it is a difficult and shaky process.

In essence it is a kind of rebirth.

Getting used to new shoes is not easy, even the best quality shoes often cause calluses.

So to start a new life in a place that is not one hundred percent yours, is to rub the skin in every possible area.

"Immigration is not for the faint of heart," Ron Meiberg once told me.

This sentence is burned in me and with me.

Mayberg has always been a master of words, and here he managed, in one sentence, to define the boundaries of the dream in front of reality: leaving a place does not mean that you leave behind what was and sail on.

Leaving home is carrying with you in a suitcase a million and one feelings and thoughts and questions and especially questions, some of which will never have an answer.

And no, watching Woody Allen's movies doesn't mean you know America.

To belong is to be able to recognize nuances, to distinguish, to distinguish, to understand instinctively what the other will not understand even with a score.

Belonging is words that have taste and smell.

Belonging is past and present, and above all it is power.

We lived in the USA for nine years. We loved it, its scenery and its comfort, the big house and the big house. But from the first moment to the last - we were Israelis. Anyone who looked at me and talked to me saw me as an Israeli who writes plays. Not a playwright. We were always the "Update" on the conflict, Hamlet and Ismail Haniyeh.

It's hard ground here.

The letters are guttural, painful to an ear that is not used to them.

But for us it is good and the sounds are pleasant.

After nine years there, we are here.

Don't ask why we came back, it's better to say welcome.

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