It was a rainy evening on Makor Haim Street. I was sitting in a pizzeria, chatting about art, like every evening. Wena was at home singing karaoke, like every evening. Two parallel events taking place in the big city. On this evening, Wena's singing transformed into a prayer for the stage, my hand found the courage to knock on her door, our eyes met. Since this moment, we’ve been singing, dancing, exchanging sweat and identities.