I remember vividly, at around twelve, filling pages with poems and essays on the meaning of life — essays I myself could barely understand, driven by a compulsion to bring what was formless in my thinking into something ordered and clear. That compulsion has never left me. If anything it has intensified.

I wrote and published first in Hebrew — fifteen books spanning novels, short stories, poetry, long essays, and anthologies, published with three of Israel's most prominent publishers. Moving to Europe meant sacrificing that love affair with my mother tongue, a loss I still feel. Learning to write seriously in English was a long struggle, reaching its peak when I had to produce a full doctoral thesis at a British university. What emerged from that struggle was a different kind of precision — harder won and, I think, more honest for it.

My books in English have been translated into twelve languages: German, Polish, Romanian, Thai, Korean, Chinese, Taiwanese, Turkish, Russian, Spanish, and an Indian edition — in addition to the original Hebrew. I take this as evidence not of my reach but of the universality of the questions the work addresses.