One year later, Israeli survivor launches global exhibition recreating scene of Supernova Music Festival
In an instant, joy turned to silence; but from that silence, we found the strength to rise and heal together. I never imagined something like this could happen. Five friends went out, and only three came back. Sharing this story is my way of healing, and I believe it’s the only way we can prevent it from happening again.
- 4 weeks ago
October 22, 2024
A memorial wall at When the Music Stopped Playing, displaying photographs of victims and survivors. | Photo courtesy of Naama Gal.
REIM, Israel — The high-pitched, icy sound of the alarm pierced the early morning air, spreading terror in just seconds. In an instant, the peaceful atmosphere turned to chaos—screams, gunfire, dust, and missiles.
On October 7, 2023, at 6:29 a.m., life at Israel’s Nova Music Festival became fragile and miraculous. The Hamas attack killed at least 364 people and kidnapped 43. Together with other survivors, we organized When the Music Stopped Playing, an immersive exhibition honoring survivors and victims, showcased in New York, Los Angeles, Tel Aviv, and now Buenos Aires.
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Shot four times at the Nova Festival
I worked as an administrator at the Nova Festival in Reim, where I arrived with four friends at 3:00 a.m. Around 6:00 a.m., I met my best friend Inbar Hayman and we went to dance on the main floor. Everything seemed perfect. The vibe felt electric until the unthinkable happened.
At 6:29 a.m. the music abruptly stopped, and alarms blared. “Red alert, red alert,” shouted security in Hebrew, urging everyone to vacate the area immediately. The police told us to leave and head home. We got into the car but saw a long line of vehicles stuck in traffic. Deciding to wait, I smoked a cigarette and informed my mother about the missile threat. Suddenly, we heard gunshots. The shooting intensified, alarms blared, and we realized we needed to flee as quickly as possible.
It was pure chaos. My friends and I decided to split up, thinking that gave us a better chance of survival. Each of us ran in different directions. I ran through the festival grounds for about 20 minutes, dodging bullets that grazed my head and feet. A man grabbed me and shoved me into a dumpster where 19 festivalgoers hid.
We could not move or make a sound as the terrorists surrounded us. Under the scorching sun, without food or water, we endured. At 11:45, a girl nearby accidentally made a sound, and in an instant, a terrorist appeared, firing into the container. A hail of bullets rained down. The man beside me took a bullet to the chest and died. The man at the front received a shot in the head and died. I got shot four times, twice in my left leg, once in my right leg, and once in my right shoulder. I still remember the smell of my blood.
Surviving the attack: “I underwent two surgeries and woke up three days later”
I never felt such pain before. It was like fire. I thought my time had come, just as it had for those around me. My life hung by a thread. Out of the 19 people in that container, 10 died. Somehow, I managed to call my mother and said, “Mom, I have been shot, I am going to die. I love you.” Then I hung up. I desperately covered myself with rubbish bags and pretended to be dead, hoping to survive.
I tried calling the police earlier, but no one answered. With the little strength I left in me, I sent my location to a group from Team Nova. Twenty minutes later, Yagil Rimoni, Nova’s founding partner, arrived with another security guard. They told me they would have to drag me over the bodies to get me out while covering me. They pulled me by my clothes. I felt terrified, but I trusted Yagil to protect us from the terrorists outside.
That day, Yagil fought for seven hours under the scorching sun and without water. He managed to save more than 150 people, receiving their locations via WhatsApp and going out to find them. He searched for injured young people in hiding, then tried to identify the bodies of the dead and inform their families.
I could not walk, so they took me to a temporary camp where a medical fighter performed field surgery to stop the bleeding. Even then, terrorists still lurked nearby. After about an hour—though I cannot say exactly—the ambulance arrived. They transfered me to three different vehicles along the way, as they had nothing to manage the pain, but eventually, I made it to the hospital. I underwent two surgeries and woke up three days later.
Honoring Israeli victims and families: When the Music Stopped Playing, an immersive exhibition
The first thing I asked about when I woke up was my friend Inbar. I felt devastated to learn she had been kidnapped and killed. I later saw a Hamas video showing five terrorists carrying her before they shot her. That was the hardest part—I survived, but she did not.
Five more of my friends are still being held captive in Gaza. After a week in the hospital, I returned home. My family cared for me for nearly three months. Once I regained mobility, I met up with my friends at the festival grounds for the first time since the attack. The energy felt completely different, but we were all grateful to be alive.
Together with other survivors, we organized When the Music Stopped Playing, an immersive exhibition. Displayed in New York, Los Angeles, and Tel Aviv, it recounts the terror of October 7, 2023, recreating the massacre’s brutal scenes. Visitors can engage with healing tents, witness victims’ personal items, and see real weapons recovered from the site. The exhibition also features video testimonies from survivors, volunteers, and families, paired with raw footage from festivalgoers and Hamas militants.
Proceeds from the exhibition go to Nova Healing Journey, supporting mental health treatment for victims and their families. In an instant, joy turned to silence; but from that silence, we found the strength to rise and heal together. I never imagined something like this could happen. Five friends went out, and only three came back. Sharing this story is my way of healing, and I believe it’s the only way we can prevent it from happening again.
