Gil Mildar
As the song says, a Latin American with no money in his pocket.

Among Shadows

Today, I woke up to the sound of my fears spilling over from the boundary of nightmares into reality. It wasn’t the alarm clock but the cry of lives cut short in Gaza. Here, in Israel, every day is a renewed challenge, an unceasing battle between the desire to live and the brutality that surrounds us. I walk through the kibbutz, feeling the tension in the air and the anxious looks of my neighbors, each carrying their burden of fear and hope, never admitting it.

Life in the kibbutz was supposed to be peaceful, a communion with the land and the community. Lately, however, even the silence of the mountains seems laden with a deep sadness, a constant reminder that war is never far away. I see the children playing, trying to maintain a normalcy that is denied to them. Their laughter is like dissonant notes in a scene of uncertainty.

My heart skips a beat with each new report of the not-so-distant war. I think of Abigail, my beloved, and her five children. Her strength and resilience are lights in this darkness, a reminder that humanity can shine even in the worst situations. The nights alone are the hardest. It’s when thoughts take over when the mind cannot escape the fear that tomorrow may never come. I keep the house filled with sounds, turning on the TV, Spotify, and anything to avoid being alone with my thoughts.

Yet, I feel the actual pain, the loss, the frustration of being an ordinary Israeli, just another person. We live between the hammer and the anvil, trying to find meaning in a world that seems to have lost its reason.

But, despite everything, there is a flame that doesn’t go out. It is the flame of resilience, of stubborn hope. Every day, I survive, and every smile I bring forth is a victory. I live one day at a time, dreaming of a future where peace is not just a word but a tangible reality.

Israel is a land of contrasts: beauty and brutality, light and darkness, life and death dance in a constant ballet. And I, lost in this scene, find strength in the small things: in my beloved’s embrace, in my dog’s affection, in the sunset over the hills, in the certainty that, despite everything, we will continue to fight for a better tomorrow.

This is the reality we live in and the story we carry—a resilient, determined people who, despite everything, never stop dreaming. And so, we move forward, hoping that the shadows will give way to light one day and the scars of this dark time will be mere memories of a past we managed to overcome together.

But until then, we stand like soldiers in a visible war, where every heartbeat is a manifesto of resistance, and every smile is an act of rebellion. Because we are more than a people; we are the storm that refuses to cease, the echo of voices that refuse to be silenced. Thus, in the eternal dance between life and death, we will find, in the fury of our dreams, the strength to transform pain into poetry and darkness into redemption.

About the Author
As a Brazilian, Jewish, and humanist writer, I embody a rich cultural blend that influences my worldview and actions. Six years ago, I made the significant decision to move to Israel, a journey that not only connects me to my ancestral roots but also positions me as an active participant in an ongoing dialogue between the past, present, and future. My Latin American heritage and life in Israel have instilled a deep commitment to diversity, inclusion, and justice. Through my writing, I delve into themes of authoritarianism, memory, and resistance, aiming not just to reflect on history but to actively contribute to the shaping of a more just and equitable future. My work is an invitation for reflection and action, aspiring to advance human dignity above all.
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