At the end of the first semester of my third year of study, I found myself without direction about the annual project I had to do.  I tried to turn in conceptual directions and didn't reveal anything to myself (to me it is obvious - if there is no discovery there is no excitement and it won’t work).  I went downtown to get inspired. I took my new digital reflex camera - a Canon 10D which had arrived from B&H two weeks earlier. (I purchased it so I wouldn't lose the little money I earned from wedding photography due to the need to buy and develop the film, etc.)  I was sure I was just going to do sketch shots. None of us thought at the time that such a camera could be taken seriously: "It doesn't have enough resolution... not enough color depth…” we were all Pixel Pipers from the first second.
I arrived at the city center and climbed on the stage in the center of Zion Square.  I saw the Model and the man who suffered from Down Syndrome. I quickly installed the camera on the tripod and took a photo.  I wanted to have more people in the picture (I already had the experience from the "Sabbath Square" photo how to assemble details from different shots). I wanted to do something weird, a bit like Fellini...  In the distance I saw an ultra-Orthodox family and thought it would be nice if they appeared in the picture, but I had a problem, how to get them photographed?! - On the one hand I can't move the camera away from it’s position, because then I won't be able to install the family in the final picture.  On the other hand, I can't go to them and leave the camera behind because someone might steal it..., so I decided to shout and wave at them.  They approached, and I asked if they would agree to stand for a family portrait.
To my delight they said: "Yes, where do you want us to stand?"
I replied: "To the left of the concrete."
The father: "And how do you want us to stand?"
Me: "Just like you do for a wedding photo." (At the time I was working as an assistant to ultra-Orthodox wedding photographers, I would run with a "Lomidine" flash to complete lighting.  At the beginning of a wedding, the whole family would gather for studio shots.  I would set up sets with printed backgrounds such as palace halls and European forests... even though the families always stood the same way they did so in full devotion).
The family approached the scene, each knowing their exact location.  There was a lot of noise around, I had to direct them a little bit so I could see the baby.  Since they were no longer close to me so I yelled. People around heard screams and came to see what was happening ... Within five minutes, a queue of thirty people waiting to be photographed gathered.
I photographed the people one after another, individuals and groups.  Thanks to my new supernatural photographic ability - to see on the camera monitor where their predecessors stood, I directed them precisely to fit into the Decisive Moment.  At one point I saw the dwarf looking from the side, I asked him, "Would you like to be photographed?"
He: "Who? Me?"
Me: "Yes. I think you'll be wonderful in this picture."
He stepped to the stage of the scene ... Suddenly a woman emerged and put her arm around his shoulders. I knew I earned a gift...
(While working, a mix of photographers  went through my mind: Richard Avedon, Garry Winogrand, Jeff Wall, Gabriel Bassilico).

I photographed each person who was standing in line for me.  I was tired and felt I was done. Just before I moved the camera, a guy in a white shirt came up to me and said, "I want you to take my picture." (He didn't seem interesting to me.  In addition, just a minute ago, I was photographing a beautiful boy with blond hair holding two Saluki dogs). I told him, "I have to go, but for you I'll wait five minutes, If you bring someone else with you, I'll take your picture.
After two minutes he showed up with his friend.  "Now you're photographing us!" he said. The guy he brought with him was even more boring, but there was a dog next to him. I asked: "yours?"
He replied: "Yes!"
I said: "If you hold him, I'll photograph you."

When I returned home, I assembled the picture.  I looked at the characters and there they were: the Down Syndrome and the Model, the Ultra-Orthodox family, the Gays with their dog, and an odd couple in the center. Everyone standing and presenting themselves in front their beautiful background. 
    I said to myself, "This is the Jerusalem I know."

I recall:
​The day before, I took pictures of the crossings from the roof. As usual, I developed the film, chose a frame from the contact print and enlarged it to 30*40 cm.  When I looked at the picture I said to myself, "how cool will it be if the building would rise up high." 
Came back in the next morning and I went up to the roof to take a standard panorama, when I looked down I felt I was too far from people. So I went down two floors and put my "emergency yarmulke" on my head (this is an ultra-Orthodox neighborhood), knocked on the door and when the tenants opened and asked me, "What do you want?" I replied: "I have to take pictures of the wonderful view you have." After shooting the crossings, I wanted to continue taking the panorama but I was too high and didn't see the front of the building properly, so I asked the tenants to help me get into their neighbors apartment which is two floors below. The neighbors from the second floor welcomed me. I took a photo of the building's facade and then went up to the roof to photograph the distant view (Of course at that time I had no idea what I was doing and what adventure I was getting into ...). I went back to 'Bezalel' and developed the films. In the evening, I removed them from the dryer and went for the first time in my life to scan them (I actually sneaked in to use the new Imacon scanner that only fourth year students were allowed to use).
At the time I didn't have my own computer and for the first time I went into the computer lab to work in Photoshop (it is important to understand that most students were very suspicious of digital photography). The file in the working stages reached a very large weight - close to two gigabytes. The computers at the time were the Mac G3 type and every time I hit "save" it would take me out for a 20 minute break. At the end of the evening at 11pm, I would start with the burning saga: I would divide the image into sections not exceeding 600 megabytes so that I could burn the parts of the image to discs (this process took about an hour). The next evening at about 5pm, I would sit down again at the computer, upload the image parts and bringing them together so I could continue working on the picture as a whole. That's how I worked day after day for two and a half weeks. After 150 hours of work the file was ready. When I printed it I knew I was facing something amazing.