The visit at Habib's home was a bit confusing. He's an artist, painter and sculpture. His yard is filled with a mess of beautiful objects scattered along with various sorts of junk. He says that in the last few years his life is in a stand still. Because of Kassams, he can't move forward with his projects. His yard was hit, and since then he didn't fix it. His street was hit, two children died, and he can't bring himself to finish painting the walls of his home. He also says that he stopped thinking about the other side, about the children of Gaza. He ran out of empathy.

While sitting next to the waterless outdoor pool Habib built, we heard a few loud 'booms'. There was no alarm, but just in case, we went inside, though the house has no security room. Then I left, and just as I got into the car I heard the loudspeaker: 'Red Color… Red Color'. I opened the door and looked around. People seemed to disappear. I considered running back to Habib, but with his wife and three kids there, I would just add to the mess.

Standing next to a low fence, I heard a shriek, then a 'boom', not too far. The alarm kept sounding, so I didn't move. Some people on the street told me: 'It's over, but sometime the alarm gets stuck". Driving away, I had a funny feeling. Like something big just happened, but nobody knows about it except us, those who are here, under this patch of sky.

It turns out other people knew, especially those who had read the news in the morning about the Israeli army's activity in Gaza, and who were expecting a rocket attack; the parking lot next to Sason's grocery store and Yaffa's hair salon was crowded with TV vans with satellite dishes on top. Electric cables stretched over the sidewalks and roads. More and more people were seen on the street.

Our director, Robi, was truly concerned about my 'Tel Avivi' ignorance when I picked him up. "First of all, you should always know where the nearest shelter is and run there. You have 40 seconds from the alarm to the fall", he gave me the first rule of conduct. "Standing outside won't do. If you can't find a shelter, lie on the ground and put your hands over your head. And shut down the radio when you drive around Sderot…"

We went to meet Andre on his way to boxing practice. He added another driving tip: "no need for a safety belt during Kassams, the police doesn't mind". I realized Sderot 'during Kassams' is a different place, with unusual rules; a place that can grate on you; that can make you want to let the whole world know; that can put your life on hold.

Ayelet Bechar - Alma Films