Every Shabbat afternoon has become a kind of personal ritual. I plug my electric guitar into the amplifier and, almost without noticing, step into a different space, more intimate, more unhurried. I begin by exploring a song with Jewish roots from the Mediterranean -sometimes Sephardic, other times echoing sounds from Greece, Turkey, or North Africa- and let its melodies guide me.

It’s not just about learning the piece, but about understanding it: its phrasing, its scales, its emotional depth. From there, the practice becomes something alive. I improvise, repeat, make mistakes, go back, and move forward again. It turns into a dialogue between tradition and the present, between what I’ve inherited and who I am today as a musician.

This weekly moment isn’t only about technique -although improvement comes almost naturally- but about reconnecting with my roots through creativity. It’s a space where identity, memory, and music intertwine, and where every note becomes a way of continuing to explore who I am.