How can I enter the gates of a house, that has no walls left? And the place is orphan, it remembers and wails, the horrors of smoke and blood. Who can put to words, days of captivity and ruin? Who can find the connection? Who can show us the way? Who will Walk us through the wasteland of a broken time? Even if we do not recognize our yesterdays, and nothing is ever going to be the same again, and we are never going to be what we were, tomorrow awaits us. The remains of our spirit will carry the night. The remains of innocence will carry the day. From out of nowhere our salvation shall emerge. From the spirit of our brothers and sisters. Our future will arise from within, with the pain of cost, and the grave lesson learned. From a broken time.
—Dror Keren