Maoz Inon

You could not see sand, grass, flowers.

It was all blooded.

And then our tears start purifying the land.

And the land become shining and brilliant.

And then in my vision, I could see a path.

I could see the path of peace and reconciliation.

And I made a decision.

That in order to heal myself, to save myself from drowning in an ocean of sorrow and pain, I must choose this path.

And a few hours after, I received this message, Aziz offering his condolence.

And it was like a hand reaching out, saving me from falling into the abyss.

And since then, in the last two and a half years, working together, co-authoring The Future is Peace,

I can now say that yes, I lost my parents, childhood friends, people I knew my entire life, but I won Aziz.

I won Aziz as a brother.

What I thought is so brilliant about the book is it's really split up into parts.

There's Aziz speaking for yourself, there's Maoz speaking for himself, and the two of you speaking together.

And what's so interesting about the book is reconciliation doesn't mean agreement.

And as you guys set off on this eight-day pilgrimage through different sites within your communities, whether it be the home where your parents, whether it was your childhood home, you don't necessarily agree, but you allow the space for each other to speak, the grace.

Yes, this is why it's a shared journey.

So at the first day in Kibbutz Niram, we are meeting Batia Segev, a friend of my parents, who lost her daughter, her son-in-law, and two of her grandchild on October 7th.

And an hour after, we are speaking to Abdel Rahim from Gaza, who lost many of his family members.