When my family came to Israel, my father was still an old farmer who’d started his business at age 8.

We lived in an agricultural settlement in the desert, and my father taught me how to plow.

He’d make the hay, he’d plow the fields and he’d pick the crops.

My father never lost his touch.

He never stopped caring for his land and people.

We grew food on a very small plot of land in the northern Negev.

When we returned to our house, I was nine years old.

We didn’t eat meat or fish, but I still loved to eat.

As a child, I’d always wanted to work in a bakery.

But my family wasn’t able to afford a bakery in Israel, so I took the next best thing, and worked as a baker in the same community.

In the summer of 2006, I decided to move to Jerusalem, where I would start my new life.

At the time, I wasn’t sure whether to accept the offer or not.

At a family dinner one day, I started to speak up.

At that moment, my family became very concerned, and one of my brothers started yelling at me.

“You don’t have to come to Jerusalem,” my father said.

“I’ll tell you how to live here.”

I said, “I don’t know if you’re right.”

“You won’t live in Jerusalem,” he said.

And so, I moved to Jerusalem and started to work.

The first job I ever did was in the bakery, and the second job was as a pastry chef.

I started at seven years old and finished at 20.

I worked there for more than 10 years.

At 40, I married my wife and started my family anew.

At 42, I became a father of two.

I still have my first son, and I’ve lived in Jerusalem for 40 years.

I’ve never left my home, and Jerusalem has been a very important part of my life for the last 40 years of my career.

At some point, I thought that I’d like to be a baker, but there was no bread in Israel at that time.

I decided that I would try to make my own bread.

I had to start from scratch.

I was working on a piece of paper.

When I came to the bakery one day in 2006, there was only a bag of flour, so there was nothing to work with.

I thought, If I can’t do this, I’ll just make my bread myself.

At first, I used a box cutter to cut the dough, and it didn’t work.

Then, I tried to work on a stick, and then a mortar and pestle.

But it didn’ t work either.

Then I tried another stick, which made it work, but it was too soft.

Finally, I just used a knife.

The next day, after a day of work, I got up and went to work, and there was absolutely nothing to do.

At around 2:00 in the morning, my brother came in, and said, [to my father] “You have to take the bag of dough.”

I looked at him and said to him, “What is this?”

I looked up at him, and he said, This is the dough you just cut.

And I said to my father, “Well, I will give it to you.”

And I was going to give it back to him.

I took it home.

The bakery didn’t exist at that moment.

So I had no bread.

In fact, I couldn’t even buy bread.

After all, the price of bread in Jerusalem was around 300 shekels.

At one point, the family was able to buy a loaf of bread for 400 shekeles, and that was the only bread that was available.

When the bakery closed, the brothers were very sad because they had been able to make bread in the past.

They couldn’t afford bread.

And that is when I decided, “No more bread.

This is my life now.”

The bakery has been in my family for 40, 40 years, and as a mother, I know that it’s important to me that my son be happy and healthy.

At 50, I gave birth to my son, Elie, who is now 15 years old, and has since graduated from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

I am now in charge of the bakery and all the other employees.

Elie has a bright future ahead of him.

At 60, I’m looking for a job as a teacher in Jerusalem, and to be honest, it’s a hard job.

But when I’m in my 50s, I don’t want to give up my life in Jerusalem.

When my son starts school, I hope he will study in the city and become a professional baker.

He is the only baker in our village.