{"id":26,"date":"2025-07-22T10:50:55","date_gmt":"2025-07-22T10:50:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/zoharlev.com\/?page_id=26"},"modified":"2026-06-12T20:45:53","modified_gmt":"2026-06-12T20:45:53","slug":"%d7%90%d7%9c%d7%9e%d7%a0%d7%98%d7%95%d7%a8-26","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/zoharlev.com\/en\/","title":{"rendered":"Home"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Everything changed on October 7, 2023.
It is not just another date.
It is a breaking point.
Like a line etched into clay, from which there is no turning back.
That morning, I woke up into a nightmare.
My home in Kibbutz Be'eri's HaKerem neighborhood\u2014which was my haven of love, motherhood, and creativity\u2014was burned to the ground.
My studio, the space where I so loved to create, was reduced to ashes.
And my father\u2014who was my anchor, a tree of life, the beating heart of my childhood\u2014was brutally murdered by terrorists.
Nothing could have prepared me for this.
Even today, there is truly no way to prepare for what we endured.
I am incredibly fortunate that my nuclear family survived; they are my anchor now.
After many long hours, we were rescued from that death by the soldiers.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

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When I managed to return to the ruins, amidst the soot and the pain, I found shards of pottery.
Blackened clay. Stained fragments.
And despite everything, they endured.<\/p>

Time and again, I returned to my ruined, desecrated home,
unable to believe my own eyes.<\/p>

I bent down and began gathering the shards, and I couldn't stop.
I dug through the piles, cleaned, photographed, and documented the fragments of my life.<\/p>

Walking, as my bleeding heart
leaves a trail behind me.
Even if I wanted to,
I have no power to hide what flows from within me,
seared onto the surface of the scorched clay.
Fragments, memories...<\/p>

Trying to see the whole picture.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

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And so, I create.
Because within all this darkness, a few points of light remain.<\/p>

A tangible reminder of what was once whole, of what meant peace to me.
Like a heart that skipped a beat but continues to beat.
Since then,
I take the shards.
I cleanse them of the ash, of the dust, of the pain.
And I build something new with them.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

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After a few months, I settled with my family in the center of the country,
uprooted from home but connected to creation.
Wonderful people from the Benyamini Center opened their hearts to me, truly saw me, and invited me into their embrace. They gave me a space.
After many months, I touched clay once again.
Sitting at the potter's wheel, I didn't think. My hands moved on their own,
forming basic, primal, round shapes.
I printed the images of what used to be my home onto the vessels and fired them again.
This time, not a fire that consumes, but a firing that heals.<\/p>

My memories, my past life, the shock, the hope\u2014are seared onto the surface of the vessels.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

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Every vessel I create now, every cube, carries a story within it.
It is made of earth, but within it also lies a memory.
It is not just a piece of art, it is a reminder.
That it is possible to break and still rise.
That there is space for grief and for beauty.
That even when it seems the heart can bear no more, we can choose to keep going.
I create because I know no other way.
This is my way of sharing my truth.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

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And why am I sharing this now?
Because within all this brokenness, there is also a plea.<\/p>

See someone who has lost everything, yet has not lost the will to live.
See the possibility of healing through creation.
I want to show a fragment of the process I am going through,
a piece of my heart.
A heart that was burned, but continues to beat.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

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