The things that Rotem Matias misses used to be small parts of an ordinary life. The “perfect” pasta dish with cherry tomatoes, mushrooms and basil that no one cooks for him any more. Sitting with his mum, Shachar, after school, chatting about his day. His father Shlomi’s musical gifts, threaded through family life right back to Rotem’s earliest childhood memories.
“Other people’s parents would read bedtime stories when we were little, but my dad took a guitar and sang until I fell asleep,” he says.
