(ANSA) – ROME, JUN 19 – “A great writer and a great friend. A man of heart who lived with great emotion and passion, exuded an extraordinary human warmth. An absolutely significant character for all the books he wrote and who they had as their theme the life of Israeli society and the fears of Israelis “. So David Grossman remembered his friend Abraham Yehoshua recently passed away, during the Biografilm Festival last night in Bologna, before the screening of the documentary ‘Grossman’ by Adi Ardel.

“I was very lucky to have him as a teacher and as a mentor and the privilege of being considered a friend – he said again -. I was lucky enough to hear him on the phone the night before he died. He knew he had a few hours to live. yet he found the energy to ask me how I was, how my family was and how my children were. He asked me to reflect on our friendship that lasted 40 years. He remembered very little details of this friendship, he had the energy and strength to engage in a rather demanding conversation that evening, in the end he told me that our friendship for him was a gift and on this sentence we broke up. The next day he died “.

The documentary by Adi Ardel, on IWonderfull from 21 June, also talks about life and death. “I have learned something since Uri was killed, which I carry in my writing,” says David Grossman in the documentary that tries to tell the man beyond the writer, inevitably marked by the death of his 20-year-old son Uri, killed in 2006 during the war of the Lebanon. “I’m not religious, I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in life after death, I don’t believe in heaven and hell. I only believe in what’s happening now – explains Grossman -. But there is one way, only one way in which we can perhaps have a faint perception of what is happening there, beyond the hermetic wall of death. Perhaps we can feel what it means not to exist and at the same time perceive the fullness of life. And there is only one thing that can give us the not to be absolute and to be absolute, and it is art. It is what I seek when I write, the moments in which I feel I touch both of them “. (HANDLE).

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