A rock, the sea and a battle for meaning | Ayelet Gundar-Goshen

Near Tel Aviv beach in 1939, an almost mythical struggle took place between a desperate refugee and his saviour, my grandfather The rock rises out of the water about a kilometre from Tel Aviv beach. It is sharp and serrated, and only desperate hands – the hands of a drowning man – would dare to grasp it. From an outsider’s perspective, my perspective, the perspective of a woman standing on dry land, what happened on this rock is simply impossible. How on earth could it have supported not one but two men, for long, endless minutes, in a life or death battle? The year is 1939. The Mediterranean is deep and blue. Tel Aviv’s shores are under the control of the Read full story