Tag: art

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Loyalty

I’m back at last and ready to fill in some of the spaces since my last post, six weeks ago, if not earlier.

The first event hasn’t happened yet, but it will happen in just five days. Loyalty and the Learner will be published on 9th September.

Hints on the contents of Loyalty and the Learner.

Loyalty and the Learner is the second in the series of Jerusalem murder mysteries. The first was Style and the Solitary.

In Style and the Solitary, the murder took place in an office. This time, it takes place in an apartment. Next time, … that’s a secret for now. Nathalie, Asaf and a few other characters are back, and there are several new ones, some friendly and others not so much.

You don’t have to have read Style and the Solitary to understand Loyalty and the Learner. Just click on the link for the ebook, which can be pre-ordered now. The paperback will be available from various online bookshops.

Here’s another project I’ve been involved in and haven’t had a chance to announce:

WE ARE THE BULLIES is a collection of stories written from the point of view of a bully. I have one story in it, called Owning Your Space, and I also edited the collection. For me, it was interesting to put myself in a position I’ve never been in.

The book is available from various sites. I suggest searching for ‘we are the bullies miriam drori’.

What I did on holiday

In the middle of July, I attended a fun-filled and exhausting five-day festival of Israeli folk dancing in the Czech Republic.

Then I spent three weeks in the UK, visiting friends and family and attending an action-filled writers’ summer school known as Swanwick.

We were once with the same publisher.

I recently joined a fascinating tour of the new National Library in Jerusalem, but I could never write a post about it as good as this one.

Monday marked a year since I lost my husband. This is what I wrote on Facebook:

“Today is the second of September, exactly a year since the sudden, although expected, death of my husband, David, after 45 wonderful years of marriage. I feel as if I had exactly five weeks to grieve before that event was superseded by one that changed the lives of everyone in Israel and has repercussions for the whole world. I’m coping with my loss, smiling at the memories, and am aware that people all around me are suffering much more.”

We’re planning to hold an exhibition of David’s art shortly.

Lhasa, Tibet, 2019

Categories
memories

David Drori and Accuracy

A wall of paintings by David Drori.

David (1953-2023) and I met 50 years ago. We got married 45 years ago. He was 70 when he died, just a week after my 70th birthday.

At David’s 70th birthday party.

There’s something special about those numbers. I wish the 70 could have been changed to 90 or even 100. I’d always imagined we would grow old together. But those 45 years were filled with happiness and I’ll always treasure the memories.

Talking of numbers brings me to accuracy, a trait often mentioned by those who came to console us during the shiva. David’s job as an electronics engineer was to design printed circuit boards. It’s a complicated process that involves taking numerous factors into account. Other engineers create the design, try it out, work on the bugs, try again, and so on until it eventually works. David considered all the problems in advance. His boards worked first time.

What about David’s hobby, art? He produced delightful paintings and sketches, as well as some sculptures. But art can surely be whatever you want to make it. I wasn’t even sure that accuracy was a term that could correctly be applied to art.

“Of course it can,” said the artist Anat Eshed, who taught David several years ago. She looked up to the wall with his paintings. “And David was very accurate. He had an eye for detail and drew exactly what he saw. He was a pleasure to teach.”

A wall of paintings by David Drori.

I might write more about David in subsequent posts. In the meantime, here’s a poem:

Shy Guy (a poem)
Drawn to a shy guy I met at a guitar lesson.
Afterwards, he invited me to give him a call.
Very soon after,
I
Did.

Diving in was not our thing.
Rather, we waited five years to marry.
Over the decades, our love grew. Now, I can only
Remember.
Initial letters of each line, you may have noticed, spell his name.