HaTachana Complex, Tel Aviv

It was a morning of high clouds and low clouds, the kind that flow quickly but don’t really know where they’re going. I went down to HaTachana Complex, not with a clear purpose, just with the feeling that there was something there worth stopping for. I climbed up to one of the perimeter terraces – one of the high ones, the kind that provides a wide view of the entire paved plaza.

I started photographing almost immediately. I already know how I want to construct this – what will be included, what will stay out. When I move, it’s precise, almost automatic. Left, up, right, diagonal, straight again. I don’t need to think twice. The people moving around below become moments – not figures but movement, presence. Someone sits, someone stands, it doesn’t bother me. On the contrary.

The black cat that suddenly appeared in my left frame, then crossed to the center, and finally sat down by the edge of the plaza – as if cooperating. I didn’t bother waiting for it. It just entered again and again, without coordination. There’s no need to stage anything – everything happening there is real, natural, unfolding on the paved floor like on a stage.

The buildings around are quiet, heavy, almost without movement. The windows are closed, the doors are open. In the center – a wooden structure with a tile roof, a presence that isn’t always noticed when passing quickly. Here, it takes its place. The three palm trees rising from behind don’t need effort. They’re there, they’re tall, they’re part of the rhythm.

And meanwhile people pass by. They sit, talk, don’t notice the one photographing them not as a single picture, but as a puzzle of moments. Each frame like this takes time. And someone sits down, another gets up. Someone enters through one of the arches on the right side of the complex. Two stand and talk. This movement – slow, everyday – continues despite my freezing time with each click.