Dafna

This book is a journey, a coping, a way to process and contain the pain. Physical and emotional. Pain for a loss and for what we became.
The capability to stand in front of the camera without makeup and without filters. To reveal what usually is we hide.
It is not heroin chic. It is reality, that what left. This is life for 2 years. 2 years of losing the strong resilient body.
A body with infinite ability to do everything, time and time again. The pleasure and excitement of the very ability to use the body in so many forms and ways. expose it proudly or wear any garment without thinking about whether to hide this part or another.
A body with infinite ability to do everything, more and more. The pleasure and excitement of the very ability to use the body in so many forms and ways. expose it proudly or wear any garment without thinking about whether to hide this or that part.
This book is a struggle for both sides, Dafna standing in front of the camera and me standing behind the camera. We are both part of the struggle. Even though only Dafna is there, we cannot be separated.
I seems that I am only taking pictures, observing from the outside and even from a distance, in fact we are close together everywhere we go.

Devour life, to love, to excite, to be.
To hug, to get closer, to build and create.
To taste, to smell, to feel, to live.

Life was fully ours, then it started to collapse and it was as if we lost control. And amidst all the chaos and loss we tried to keep something and to build something new, connect and bridge.
Great pain accompanied us.
I experienced days of darkness with little light and hope.
Dafna always had hope, believing that it would be better, that life would win.
Even on the days when I asked her to give up, to let go. Dafna did not give up, did not let go. She kept hope alive believing in life.
Only a few years later, when it seems that we are in a more stable place, when life is back to it’s new routine, we were able to reach and touch the images and the moments arising from it.