I write. In wake of the death of my son Uri last summer in the war between Israel and Lebanon, the awareness of what happened has sunk into every cell of mine. The power of memory is indeed enormous and heavy, and at times has a paralyzing quality to it. Nevertheless, the act of writing itself at this time creates for me a type of â€œspace,â€? a mental territory that Iâ€™ve never experienced before, where death is not only the absolute and one-dimensional negation of life.