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  • i want to go back

    to seventh grade

    when i was kissed

    for the first time

    SMACK

    tongue kiss

    wetness

    slobber

    exhilaration

    as i stood in the center

    of the world

    on a dance floor

    grinding low

    flying high

    when all of a sudden

    my face was grabbed

    by his lips

    pulled in

    for my first kiss

    sucked in

    by a 13-year-old

    boldness and

    bravery required

    for a touch like this

    i want to go back

    to when

     20a kiss was just a kiss

    and i did not fear

    that a kiss meant anything else

    like an invitation into the rest of my body

    when opening my lips was

    simple and pure innocence

    and not a need to push back to say no to stop

    it to feel obligated to reciprocate to owe

    someone to pretend to refuse to disappoint

    to anger to confuse to feel used to diffuse to

    detach and

    i want to go back

    to when the pace

    was unhurried

    when there was no rush to home base

    when playing the bases

    was the best part of the game

    a becoming of age

    a growing phase

    the simple days

    on the day i had my first kiss

    my best friend squealed with joy

    he finally kissed me

    and i squealed back

    me too

  • the wild woman grows

    between

    her darkest day

    her ugliest cries

    her tiredest lies

    and

    the briefest twinkling

    of her unbound eye

    you see

    every spark

    requires friction

    and every shadow

    requires light

    a distant ray of hope

    that

    reminds her

    cracks her

    ignites her

    kindles her

    flame

    back

    to

    life

  • the will to be wild

    is born into my blood

    like a wolf howls

    with the full moon

    letting loose her truth

    liberated

    running rampant

    wild and free

    or perhaps

    it was

    just the

    whiskey

  • it can look perfect

    from the outside

    while the inside

    brews in darkness and pain

    trauma and energy drains

    from all the insane

    that filters through our brain

    how do we release the tension

    silence the sounds

    rest into ease

    settle into our ground

    how do we bridge

    our surface

    and connect to our depth

    how can we break

    the performance

    and let go of “perfect?”

    how can we

    open the stage

    for purely primal humanity?

    fulfill our potential

    and feel our true vitality?

    how can we

    surrender to our shadows

    without blocking our light?

    how can we remember

    we are made of layers

    beyond our own sight?

Written Words

Spoken 
Words

When Tel Aviv Presents asked me to write a love letter to Tel Aviv, I didn't think twice. After spending a decade in my favorite city, this creation spilled easy from heart to screen. And was so damn fun to film!

 

Watch it here.

A Love Letter to Tel Aviv

1

When the local theater group released the  Matchmaker, Matchmaker theme for the monthly story slam, I knew I needed to have a go at this tiny useless idiot. Watch the original performance here

Then Bumble asked me to collab. Watch the updated version here

Dear Cupid 

3

When I saw a post in the local girl group from someone curating an event called Boobs of Israel, I knew mine needed to get involved. Not only did I volunteer to be painted, I took on writing a poetic piece in dedication to our bosom. It offered the perfect opportunity to explore a personal and societal relationship with breasts.

 

Watch it here

Respect the Breast

2

Bringing 50 women leaders together for a powerful brunch to connect and create dialogue about the topics that matter, here's an excerpt of the opening speech I gave.

 

Watch it here.

Revision 2030

4

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