I lived in an immigration hostel, I worked as an architect and town planner in Jerusalem and I was miserable.
In quick succession two Russian immigrants killed themselves: I knew and liked them both. One of them was so determined that she manage to hang herself from the window bars, even though the parapet of the window was only about 20 inches…
I was going to be next. Except that someone invited me to something on this Wednesday evening.
As soon as the presenter started to speak I recognized it. Two years earlier I went to one of those, signed up, but in the hostel a New Yorker friend of mine told me: You are stupid. I will do it for you for much less. I’ll yell at you, won’t let you go to the bathroom, for much less. OK, I said and I withdrew. But he didn’t mean it, and I didn’t catch what the company was, and I didn’t know how to sign back up.
So, here I was, on the precipice of that same thing, the savior, the thing that was going to save me. I signed up for a class that started next day, in Haifa, where I knew no one and made sure I didn’t tell anyone in the building what I was going to do.
The course was called Communication Workshop, and it was in Hebrew. It took me till the morning of the third day to understand a whole sentence… lol. But, as you’ll see, what you understand is not why you are there.