Go back to Europe - if you don't like King Bibi!

It all started in November 2022.

After four—maybe five—election days in just two years, this one dealt the most devastating blow. A government was formed that I knew—deep in my gut—would bring nothing but trouble.

My whole being said: enough. This was my line in the sand.

And as if the universe needed a cue, on his very first morning as Minister of National Security, Ben Gvir chose not to unite, not to lead, not to seek peace - shocking - right?

Instead, he stuck a finger in the eye of Islam—when he could have gathered the heads of all faiths and tried to calm the storm.

So that very morning, while he was smugly walking around the Mosque, looking at his live Facebook fans (you would think he would be appreciating the scenery...right?)

I booked my ticket back to the diaspora.

Funny how things go around and around...

Round and Round-About

Their Shock Doctrine never stopped. Chaos. Noise. Deliberate confusion. An environment so saturated with madness that clear thinking became a luxury.

And why should we think clearly—if they won’t?

Riots broke out across the West Bank.“Erase Hawara!” tweeted Smotrich—our sorry excuse for a Finance Minister, moonlighting in the security sphere. A tweet was casually deleted after the damage had already been done. Convenient, isn’t it?

We, the people—2,000 of us—pooled resources, raised a restoration fund, and tried to repair the wreckage. Only to watch them storm Hawara again. Triple the destruction. Triple the casualties.

Things were spiraling. Fast. It was time to create other options.

Forty generations in Europe...and my parents barely managed to root themselves in this land that devours its own. And I decided that if I were the main course,

I was not going to let my children be the dessert.

Back in 2007, I started sensing it—That my worldview was being filtered through a Holocaust Prism. Every life decision suddenly felt... pre-scripted. Predictable. Safe.

So I began to question it all.

I wanted to widen my lens, to see those dark days differently—not to forgive or forget, but to understand the larger story. To avoid falling into the trap of modern-day charlatans—another version of fleeing one predator, only to land in the hands of another. Smiling this time.

That’s when my photographic journey began—challenging old associations, calling out unspoken truths. And to my horror, things started looking… complicated. Good and Evil changed places. So did the characters.

In 2011, I joined the struggle to rescue what was once the largest political party. A group named "The New Likud," led by Lior Meiri, made a lot of sense to me, and I tried my best. The indifference was staggering. The effort needed from the public was ridiculously small. I tried to convince people that getting our hands dirty in this polluted system might be the least damaging path forward. But only a few listened.

Those in power saw the threat. They took a chance—and illegally banished us from the game.

Then came the pandemic. Problematic in its own right, yes. But also a perfect tool to silence growing voices of dissent.

Four rounds of elections followed—each more grotesque than the last. Until we arrived at this final act.

And as Ben Gvir climbed up that mountain with his proud, petty provocations—I booked my flight.

I told people then: the spiral to war is no longer a question of if, but only when. Even before top military officers were knocking on locked ministerial doors, even before their warnings went unanswered—I could feel it.

It was time to prepare for the rainy day.

And then—after not very little provocation—it came.

On that dreadful October 7th, the storm finally hit, and it is still hitting.

I can't see the end of it, and while I foresee worse to come, people around, for their own reasons, chant "this will all be over soon."

I still hope they are right. 💔

Mission - back to Europe-iPhone photo collection