Assaf, Doron

Daphne and Yaron. Born on 25.4.1988 in Kibbutz Ma’agan Michael, a sister to Omri Doron, Dori, by her lover, was a quick baby in the development that had already begun at the age of nine months, a strong and comfortable girl, who until the age of seven was not ill. She learned many books before she learned to read, and would make herself read from the books and fascinate children in her “reading.” In places she could not remember she improvised, and finally invented the books In the early years of the Ma’aganim Elementary School in Ma’agan Michael, Doron was a leader, developing friendships, participating in his activities She began to read books in the series, occasionally writing diaries and short stories, but behind her strength and strength, Doron became very sensitive to herself and to the relationship The transition to junior high school – from a small school and protected to a large and unfamiliar framework – was not easy: Dori excelled at her studies but felt social discomfort and difficulty in coping with a new and different environment. For the first time she encountered uncontrollable violence in her surroundings, feeling threatened and alienated. At the end of the school year, she was informed that she received a degree of excellence, but in an unusual step she decided to return the certificate to the school as a protest against the attitude toward achievements and not the people. In eighth grade, Doron moved to the Mevo’ot Iron educational institution near Kibbutz Ein Shemer. At this point, it seems that Doron, the leader and the lead actress, has begun to develop a deep personal pain that will increase. Her high sensitivity was expressed in escapism, in an attempt to distance herself from reality and from everything that hurt, and on the other hand she showed deep caring and awareness of the suffering of the different and the other. She identified with the plight of the Palestinian people and that of the small citizen suffering from hunger and poverty, had difficulty digesting the daily abuse and blockades at checkpoints, and participated in demonstrations. In the summer of the end of the 10th grade, Doron began to take part in the writing courses of Matan (a cultural and artistic youth project), where another channel of content and expression was created, and a new group of “Shira” at the end of the 12th grade. “Newspaper 77” – Israeli Journal of Literature: “You cut your vegetables and your finger is bleeding into the salad / and I / my hands will hold you and say / do not hurt / it does not hurt at all // every man in our house will sit in another room and look like through a cataract look But all around is blurry // And always in the morning is more pleasant / You have time to ask questions / To stand in the doorway and to watch / Our hard backs are moving away and our hands are not touching / I know that at that moment you are wondering Remembering / How to love and be loved. ” Doron wrote a lot – writing very direct, from the heart, without beautification, without discounts to herself, to the environment and not to parents. She liked to read and buy fantasy and science fiction books, and often declared that she would be the first Israeli writer of fiction. She enrolled in the Society for Science Fiction and Fantasy, and every summer she went to the iconic conferences. However, she also loved the writings of Agnon, Dostoyevsky, and James Joyce. She traveled extensively with her father to Israel, Sinai, the Negev and abroad, and heard a lot of music: the Algerian band, the Giraffes, Ivri Lider, Eviatar Banai, Marilyn Manson, and others. She invested less in the other subjects, but went to all the matriculation exams and passed them through gradestall. At the end of the 11th grade she experienced first love and friendship with Ido, and towards the end of the twelfth grade she began a second and happy love with her brother’s good friend Doron. At that time she got a driver’s license, moved to her own room and began furnishing it. Until the induction she worked in the laundry, chilled a little, but loved the staff and felt appreciated. Before the army, she deliberated a lot until she decided on a course for “collecting combat soldiers in Sde Modi’in” and easily passed two days of consolidation. At the recruitment center, just before boarding the bus, she gave each of her family members a folded personal letter and asked to read it only after the bus had gone away. And so she wrote to her mother: “… I wanted to tell you, dear, that I love you, that I appreciate the mass of things you have done for me in the last six years in particular, Mom, believe in me, I have the strength and you too. It ‘s one of the best things I do for myself and one of the tracks that is most important for me to finish, be proud of me, be proud of yourself, you’ re a wonderful mother, yours, Dordi. Doron enlisted on 20.11.2006 for the Intelligence Corps and began basic training of combat soldiers at the Modi’in Field base in Tze’elim. She managed to meet new girlfriends, she loved the personal squadron and the team, but despite her self-confidence, she was overcome by the difficulty of being away from the friend and the home and the fear of the long and arduous journey. On the morning of Sunday, January 14, 2007, Doron sent many messages – about fifty of them – to all of them. The same sentence: “I love you.” She jumped to her death, not before telling her good friend that she had left a black bag on a roof Azrieli wine in Tel Aviv, including a will, and the parents learned about four of the songbooks she wrote, the precise instructions regarding the nature of her funeral, the distribution of her property, and the whereabouts of a few birthday gifts she could not give. “You’ve had lots of shells all your life, and despite all these shells, so many people have been able to see your beauty and know how to love you,” says Omri. … Now I know, that’s also what made us not see to the end what’s going on underneath. And that’s why we could not save you from you. I thought to write that if you knew how many people came here today and you saw how much they loved you, you would regret it. But my pretty Dorcie, I’m sure you knew it very well, and there were things that were just stronger than you. … I do not know where you are now, but I hope that you may finally be there with yourself. “Among the many pictures, her parents’ biography, poems and notes were written in her memory. “We must live in the future of Doron … We have to say at once that this is a great privilege, that is the right to hold on to the edges of the strings that Doron left, And weave them into fabrics she did not know, maybe she did not even think, but it’s also a simple burden, because we may never be left with doubt about this weaving act, its precision, Of which, as a natural extension of Doron its actual image. ” Many of Doron’s songs were written in masculine form: “Now I can breathe / slowly, not like crazy, / Now I see and understand: / I am actually a woman.” The song “To Finish”: “In a yearI plan to perform dance / pirouettes on two towers. / When I fall down and bow my head, / for a second the stars will go out. / In conclusion I want to kiss all of you / and take out the light bulb, so that it will not shine. // When you close the lid, / wave for peace / and when your father cries / your brother. “I want everyone to know that I exist.” “I want everyone to know that I exist, / to walk around with a sign / and a sentence / really stupid. / When will we be allowed to see / the symphony of blood in the lungs? / When will the blessings be filled with paper, / And can we go to the sea to drown? / When will you love them all? / I want to dance you to the sea / To the soft light of a star, / The light of Shaul and recycled, / Like the thought of yesterday, / If you think it tomorrow. “” Love did not know “:” I had life on the bed someone else took / Benches and someone else laughed / I had words and thoughts that someone erased / I had symbols and mannerisms that someone else shouted. / I had a love she did not know, / I had a beautiful girlfriend. / I had thoughts of death, until they died. “And if I die now / Such thin at the foot of a tower / If my soul is a black shadow of a man, great and glorious / If my blood from the heat of the day is boiling on Concrete ground / I forced silence on logic. / If I’m dead now / If I’m in the heat of the day / So I won. “” Lack of appreciation “:” The lack of appreciation / / humiliates you, / To the floor, / The best, / This lack of appreciation / that brings the rage. // But that’s the beauty of you, / Take out poetry. / Your eyes / running on the empty lines / your hand chasing, / pouring emotions / filling / rows, rows. “Cocaine”: “Coke of Love at 180 degrees / Make butter on the counter, / Start dancing 350 grams of dark chocolate, / Breathe six eggs in the air / and together create a miracle of all the wonders: / Cocaine of love at 180 degrees. “-” Dancing with a demon “Yaron, Doron’s father, wrote on the anniversary of her death:” He came without an invitation, preparation. Comes with the city officer, not even packed in a gift box. From that moment on he is yours, he is with you. Partner in everything, an uninhabited tenant, but with a lifelong contract. “It’s like dancing with a demon,” Fortis and Sakharov say in their song “Sparks,” “It’s like dancing with a demon, who embraces and does not leave.” And sometimes this demon is like a gin that comes out of a pitcher and grows and grows, and sometimes it’s small, like a crazy joker emerging from some Magic Box. “He’s quite sly and nasty, he’s a partner, exploits you as the injured side, he has several names and some shows, and the field is sometimes blurred and unknown, once he is deep sadness and once he is angry, frustrated or depressed, but always pain and longing.” With him and does not confront. I do not think that any of us will really win. Not going to a support group, does not want any counselor to mediate in dialogue with the partner. Learns with time to control it a little, to reach understandings, to put limits on the partner. But yes, it’s like dancing with demons and trying to fit in. “The partner has regular habits, he is quite polite and with a lot of patience, he is waiting in the back seat of the car and on the way home, “Sometimes he decides to play it rationally, tells about the higher percentage of suicide bombers of the same age in Scandinavia, about the number of suicide bombers, Reducing the phenomenon in the IDF in 2007It’s as hot. “Fuck me,” I tell him, “you do not understand that for me she is 100 percent, not a thousand percent!” “The most correct thing is when I open the jar for him, take it out of the box on my own initiative, so he is small, calm and controlled, letting me remind you of my child in situations of joy, of shared experiences, of happiness that has passed. Hi there. ” Daphne, Doron’s mother, wrote: “Everyone seems to have dispersed and we have forgotten to go. / Everywhere a burning bird passed / we were lost and poor We stood in the dark in front of an abyss, / It was hard for us to breathe. We knew that this was our sabbatical year. We did not realize that this was our year of death. ” Doron wrote: “… the lack is everyday, the longing is what we started to build, and the sorrow arises when the imagination presents what could have been … I loved you and admired you, Doron, because I felt you were a winning person … I always admired The womanhood that broke out of you, the wit and the humor that was only yours, the creative thought – all these sucked me into this relationship, and I fell in love with you with crazy speed. There’s never a bottom line for you, there’s no bottom, there’s always more. ” True reporter: “… not a day goes by when the sun is not enough to remind me, / whose liars do not hurt you any more … And she misses so much that it is hard for her to shine. “I imagined a girl walking on a line that separates the mountain from the sky / the moment she is here, the moment she is there / always leaves room for doubt / in the end she loses herself / in an autumn spirit I imagine a girl walking on a line / crossing the country in half / she is here, a moment is there / always leaves holes in the language / end migrating from here / riding on a shadow of a cloud / disintegrating the language // this line that he learned “I am already beginning to forget your beauty, which is because of me,” he says, “you are now only a memory, a collection of memories that are happy, sad, moving and painful. I would stay awake for hours, your sharp and deadly humor, which would leave me speechless all over again, your many talents, your sweet laughter, your breaths, our fascinating conversations, the excitement in me when I saw you, and the many chills that passed through me. At our crisis and flowering points. “I loved you, loved you and loved you forever.” Uncle Nimrod wrote: “… When I cry, I feel that I am mainly crying for what we did not have. The feelings they did not find a channel, the walls we did not know how to break out, and everything you had to offer and we did not know how to take … “the mother wrote:” My child is not over. The dead houses were not sealed. / In the air between me and her / I am now close to the earth / And everything is back. / To man, to blood. For example. / Bitter battles between falling and rising. / My dead daughter is not over, / The air between me and her is silent. / And only my land is empty. “