Shahar is my best friend. We grew up together in Jerusalem, went to kindergarten and school together. We both chose filmmaking as our profession and studied together at the Sam Spiegel Film School. He is the most unique and authentic person I know. His rhythm is different from that of the rest of the world. On the surface, he may not seem to accomplish much, but in his own way, everything he does, he does exceptionally well. Whether it's a film or a serving of sabich (eggplant sandwich), it will always be something special and wonderful.

Our previous film, Souvenirs, portrayed Shahar as a devoted son to his father who, despite his seemingly unproductive lifestyle, managed to conceive and complete a complex film that succeeded beyond all expectations. Through it, he embarked on a loving farewell journey with his father and reversed the roles: from the aimless son who never earned the admiration of his revered father, a former Brigade soldier and a strict teacher, he became a son worthy of respect, proving himself in every way, while his father was revealed in all his humanity, including his vulnerabilities. Yet none of this diminished the deep love they shared.

In this film, we meet Shahar as a father himself, struggling with the challenges of raising a rebellious, sharp-witted teenage son, thus completing a circle that began with his own relationship with his father. Three generations, two fathers, two sons. Here too, Shahar begins as the weaker figure, seemingly an unsuccessful father, and ends as the victor, discovering that his son understands what truly matters, and that there was only one person from whom he could have learned it. Once again, authenticity and staying true to oneself prevail. As his father once told him: "What does a father really want? To know that he can rely on his son."

The question of fatherhood in this film is even more complex because Shahar is an immigrant, a stranger to the language and culture, while Salie is a native-born Dutchman. This is, in fact, the film's larger theme: immigration, as experienced by Shahar in relation to his family, the professional compromises he made, and the compensation that is so characteristic of him; he created an alternative family made up of fellow immigrants, and within that family he is the good father, respected and appreciated. The fact that many of the refugees he employs are Arabs from countries officially considered enemies to his nationality, makes the beauty of his generous spirit even more striking. It shows us how simple it can be, through direct, everyday, compassionate human contact, to create a shared life that is both peaceful and beautiful.