Love and trust in Paris

Prologue Between the walls… where stories are forged and souls collapse Tel Aviv was never a city that slept; beneath its restless noise lay secrets known only to those who lived within its narrow walls—those who smiled by day and broke apart by night, walking on ground that forever trembled under the weight of history, blood, and fear. In this place where souls intertwine like the tangled electric wires hanging above the streets, the story of a young Jewish man was born—one who never truly knew where he stood: within the world or outside it? Among people, or against them? He lived between silent walls that watched him without speaking, and other walls within his own soul that screamed though no one heard them. He was not a hero, nor a villain; just a human being trying to find himself amid a conflict that was never his… but he would discover, too late, that escaping a story is harder than falling into it. This crowded world, which many believe to be as solid as steel, is far more fragile than it appears… One word can ignite a war, one glance can alter a destiny, and one step can lead to a path with no return. But Ariel was outside all of this… And from here— From the heart of a city that glitters by day and devours by night—Ariel’s story begins. A young man who believed his life was simple, routine, predictable… But the days ahead would tear down this illusion brick by brick, revealing that walls are not always built to protect people, but sometimes… to imprison them within their own memories. Will love be the next verdict passed upon his life? Morning was preparing to be born anew. And before the first threads of sunlight slipped over the rooftops of Tel Aviv, the alarm rang in Ariel’s room—habitual, monotonous, steady—like a daily reminder that life waits for no one. He opened his eyes sluggishly, stretched a little, then glanced toward his window overlooking the street that never sleeps… a street buzzing with noise even before the city itself awakens. Tel Aviv rose slowly, like a giant emerging from a brief slumber. The smell of hot coffee drifted from the nearby café, seeping into his chest and refreshing his senses—an early, gentle promise that his long day might begin with a little less chaos. Ariel… Thirty years old, of moderate height, with eyes the color of the Mediterranean—an interplay of calm blue and hidden green, carrying within them a trace of wandering. His black hair, tinged with brown, fell lightly over his forehead, giving him the look of a man who lived more in his inner world than among others. He worked as an engineer at a rising tech startup, spending long hours immersed in numbers, screens, and data—as though technology had become his second home. Work was not merely a source of income; it was a space where he released his energy, measured his intellect, and reaffirmed his existence in a city that moved at the speed of light and left no room for the hesitant. Inside the office, sounds alternated between the humming of machines, the chirping of notifications, and the rumble of printers. But Ariel’s mind… was somewhere entirely different. It wandered, without permission, to his memories— to his friend living in Jerusalem, to the university classmates who had drifted into their own distant paths. As for his love life… it resembled a sealed room with no windows. He wanted love—searched for it—yet ran from it too. The city, with its quick laughter and passing faces, made attachment feel like trying to hold on to air. --- Ariel was not political by nature; yet like anyone living in the unsettled Israeli world, he could not escape the influences that slipped quietly into his thoughts and emotions. He felt sensitive toward everything happening around him— toward those different from him, toward his neighbors, toward the Arabs he saw on the news or heard about in endless recycled stories… Still, he never engaged in direct political debates. He always stood at the borderlines—observing without judgment, listening without conviction— as if he sensed he did not possess the full picture to choose a side or pass a verdict. --- His feelings were tangled: a touch of caution… a spark of curiosity… and an enduring sense of difference— one he wasn’t sure made him unique or simply placed him outside every standard. Sometimes he felt a faint flicker of guilt, like someone who knew a fragment of the truth but didn’t yet understand his place within it. And at other times, he was grateful for the daily routine that offered him—even through a temporary illusion— a sense of stability… as if the walls surrounding him each morning were not merely walls, but a fortress that shielded him from a world he had yet to comprehend. :Scene Two “Between the City’s Noise and the Silence of the Soul”** After long hours of work, Ariel stepped into the wide street where Tel Aviv’s lights began to shimmer on the sidewalks like scattered shards of gold. Cars rushed past, their sounds familiar—like the pulse of the city—while music drifted from nearby cafés and bars, flowing like soft waves from another world. He chose a small bar on the corner— a place he knew well, a place that granted him brief moments of borrowed peace. He sat at an old wooden table, ordered a cup of hot tea, and let his eyes wander across the stream of passersby. Friends laughing… lovers whispering… the distant murmur of the sea… Everything melted together in his ears, forming a symphony of life he never truly felt he belonged to. Despite the warmth around him, Ariel felt a heavy loneliness—a quiet, stubborn solitude he didn’t know how to escape. He couldn’t tell whether it was part of his nature or a side effect of living in a city that made everyone feel close… but only from afar. His thoughts drifted between his growing career ambitions, his personal longings, and the questions he could never answer: What does it mean to live in a city built on layers of history and conflict? How can a person seek happiness in a world charged with constant tension and fear? Is happiness a right… or a privilege reserved for those who can ignore the storm around them? When the streetlights reflected on his face, Ariel realized a truth he had long tried to outrun: Daily life, no matter how simple it seemed, carried a psychological complexity that could hardly be explained. Every day was a test of identity, a struggle to prove oneself in a world that held no mercy for the weak. And before he returned to his small apartment, one last thought flashed in his mind: Life is not only history or politics… but a chain of small moments, quiet choices, and emotional battles that shape the human being within the walls that surround him each day. --- Ariel’s Neighborhood – The Heart of Tel Aviv Ariel’s neighborhood lay on the edge of old Tel Aviv, close to the sea— an area where narrow streets mixed with small cafés and vintage shops. The buildings were low, their facades made of white stone or faded cement, surrounded by palm trees swaying with the Mediterranean breeze as if greeting the passersby each morning. At dawn, the neighborhood awakened with quick steps of employees heading to work. The smell of fresh coffee seeped from bakeries and cafés. Ringing bicycle bells, fruit vendors’ calls, and the shouts of early morning blended into a daily symphony known only to those who had lived there long enough. In the small square, a group of elderly men and women sat near an old fountain, guarded by time itself, watching children play with innocent laughter. Cats and dogs roamed the alleys like essential parts of the neighborhood’s spirit. Ariel loved walking down Dizengoff Street, where modern boutiques stood beside old shops, and cafés lined the sidewalks with wooden chairs and simple metal tables. There he would grab coffee, meet friends, or simply watch people pass by as he rearranged his thoughts. At night, the neighborhood transformed completely: old lamps lit the sidewalks, the smell of grilled food filled the air, and café music floated above the sound of the sea. Yet despite all the noise, Ariel felt a hidden loneliness— as if the city’s clamor could never breach the deep emptiness inside him. To him, this neighborhood was more than a place to live; it was a refuge for reflection, for rediscovering himself, for mending fragments of broken emotions. Here—among alleys, sea, and people—he found something that resembled his lost identity. --- Roots of Loneliness Ariel lived alone in the house he inherited after his parents’ death. His father, an officer in the Israeli army, was killed in Gaza during what was described as a “national duty.” His mother was killed in one of the airstrikes that targeted Israel. That double paradox— a father killed there, a mother killed here— carved inside him a wound that never healed, and a doubled sense of loss and fragmentation. From the age of twenty-seven until now, Ariel had lived alone in a silent home, surrounded by heavy memories pressing in from every corner— a constant reminder that he was a child of war… and that loneliness was not a choice, but a destiny written by history long before he began writing his own life.