The Phoenicians

Since childhood, the Phoenicians filled my imagination. I admired their courage rowing in tilting wooden boats in starry nights- miraculously finding their way. They could read the stars as I did the alphabet. Later, I learned that the Hebrew sacred 22 letters- actually derive from Phoenician. When I was four years old, my father sat on my bed one night. His glasses glowed with the moons’ dim light. He said: “Tomorrow we are going to America!” My mother was afraid of airplanes, so we all sailed back and forth by a ship. When I was twelve we took this trip again. I can clearly remember the ship moving gently from side to side, the dim motors’ sensation day and night, and how this huge vessel move slowly in endless waters. From the deck, the horizon was a perfect blue circle. We were always exactly in the middle. My father was pointing his finger into the endless blue. I saw glossy gray dolphin backs as they were playfully jumping and chasing each other. Understanding my art as being rooted in Archeology – I started thinking also about the Mediterranean Sea. How it contains endless treasures and remains underneath the tiny yacht I sail. I feel tremendous honor and gratitude to all sailors who had no JPS, no electricity or cellular. So many Odysseus did not come home. .


About sailing to Lisbon, here.

About sailing to Ithaca, here.

Mediterranean Scollars of Malta

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