Every Friday is the same. I begin my day by cleaning up the house. Yes, when you live in Israel, you don’t work on Fridays, but you work on Sundays. And so, at around 11:00–11:30 I am finally ready to depart the house towards Ramat Aviv Mall, where I routinely write for an hour or two, every Friday.
The cashier already knows what I want before I even order. That’s the length of my indulgence. And so they recite it to me, to make sure:
“Strawberry, Banana, Date, Walnut, Almonds, and Chinese Pecan on a Yogurt base.”
Every Friday must include my yogurt shake.
It’s an indulgence I can afford only once a week — at the sweetest of times.
It is my firm belief that creating worlds or forming ideas should be an enjoyable experience.
My shake is the one promise that at least my mouth will remain sweet, even if my words are sometimes bitter.