Yemin Moshe Windmill, Jerusalem

The Yemin Moshe Windmill – not a station, but a mill – stands in the heart of one of Jerusalem’s most enchanting and photographed corners. There’s no bus station there, nor a shared taxi. At most, you can find Montefiore’s restored yet still mythological carriage, standing behind glass as if waiting for a journey that will never come.

The mill itself, built in the 19th century as Moses Montefiore’s initiative for the neighborhood’s residents, has long since stopped grinding flour. But it grinds memories, landscapes, and personal moments of visitors from around the world. Standing in the plaza beside it, eyes wander to the Old City walls and the adjacent Mishkenot Sha’ananim neighborhood – the symmetry of the buildings, the Jerusalem stone warming in the afternoon light, and the tall trees that line the skyline in dark green.

In the adjacent corner, in the Blumfield Gardens, you can meet the lions – not the roaring ones, but iconic statues that serve as backdrops for family photos or simply as seating. And among the lions, of course, are Jerusalem’s cats, who always look as if they understand something others don’t. They flow between the tree shadows, quietly supervising the proceedings.

When I photographed this panorama, I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one documenting a unique moment. Two Orthodox men stood there, one kneeling. Perhaps a marriage proposal, or maybe he was just photographing his friend posing against the backdrop of the mill. Either way, the moment was intimate, quiet, almost ceremonial – like the place itself.

The panorama tells all of this. Not just in sights, but in layers of time, light, and small stories that unfolded as the sun slowly set behind the pergola bars.