There’s something about night photography that gets under my skin—in the best way. Maybe it’s the quiet, the honesty of it all.
The city strips off its daytime mask and shows you who it really is.
No filters, no distractions—just raw light, shadow, and energy.

On a Friday night, around 9PM, I found myself back at Arlozorov Junction.
It’s a spot I keep coming back to. Something about it calls to me, maybe the way the roads curve, maybe the rhythm of the traffic, maybe just the buzz of Tel Aviv getting ready to party.
I stood right over Derech Zeev Jabutinsky, looking north over Ayalon Highway, and I knew this was the shot I wanted.

Below me, Tel Aviv was in motion—fluid, pulsing, alive. The cars raced by, each one leaving behind a ribbon of light. I didn’t bring any artificial lighting.
I didn’t need to. The city provided everything—streetlamps casting their golden glow, neon signs humming quietly in the distance, headlights slicing through the night like they had somewhere urgent to be.

I set my camera for a 12-second exposure. That’s all it took to freeze time while showing movement. What came out of it wasn’t just a photo, it was a feeling.
A soft blur where speed meets stillness. A silent dialogue between past and present. Between what we rush through and what we never really stop to see.

That stretch of highway, framed by high-rises and flyovers, becomes something else when the sun goes down. It turns into a river of light—a stage where every passing vehicle plays its part.
And up there, in the dark, I wasn’t just taking a picture—I was listening. To the rhythm of the city. To its quiet confidence. To its refusal to slow down.

Tel Aviv at night doesn’t beg for attention. It commands it. And I love capturing those moments when the city isn’t posing, but just being chaotic, luminous, and unapologetically alive.