I saw this short film (39 min) a couple or three years ago, and it’s stayed with all this time. I just can’t shake it. You may say that we’re mysteries to each other, but the truth is, we’re mysteries even to ourselves.
A woman goes to the Tel Aviv airport to pick up a friend. A driver asks her to hold his sign for a couple of minutes, because he has to step away from the waiting area. She’s still holding the sign when the driver’s client appears. On a whim, or maybe because her entire life was leading up this moment, she pretends to be the man’s driver. They set out for Jerusalem.
It occurs to me that our lives are like those sled runs you see on television once every four years at the Olympics: a man or woman flops down onto a metal sleigh and hurtles headfirst down an icy track. Banks left, banks right. The bystanders in their brightly colored parkas appear as a mere blur of reds, blues, yellows, and greens. Within seconds, it’s over.
But what if you were to stop somewhere before the finish, climb over the wall, and say ‘yes’ to whatever happens next?