I stood quietly, the heavy camera in my hand, in front of the scene where the Iranian missile that hit my heart fell – Haifa. Every corner here carries memories, and every memory is now broken under the fragments of the shock. The air is heavy with dust and smoke, the scents of fire and war mingle with the sea breeze, creating a feeling of intense helplessness that makes it difficult to breathe.


The smell of burning and dust mixed with the light breeze
The heavy smoke spreads in the air, the smell of fire and dust mixes with the light breeze, and at the heart of it all – the destruction. Torn walls, blown windows, scattered furniture as if time had stopped. Every corner tells a story of fear, pain and hope merging in the heavy air. The streets I have walked hundreds of times, now bear a heavy layer of destruction. Walls that collapsed like a broken dream, shards of glass glittering among the broken stones, windows that have been torn apart again. The face of the city changes before my eyes, a quiet and familiar city becomes a silent battlefield, full of pain and a sense of loss.



Standing among the ruins
The people who were here – neighbors, friends, families – now stand among the ruins, with staring eyes full of unanswered questions. Silent tears are shed, words of comfort spoken in whispers, and a brave attempt to restore peace to the city that was so damaged. Deep shock sinks into hearts, but at the same time – they also have resilience, a desire to restore routine and search for hope among the fragments of gray.



Rescuers arrived quickly.
The rescue forces arrived quickly, carrying an almost superhuman task on their shoulders. Firefighters, police teams, and army teams are passing by and doing sacred work, dealing with the pain and fear, covering the city's wounds, and trying to restore what is possible. When the Commissioner himself suddenly appeared among the crowd, his powerful words were like a ray of light – reinforcement and strength aimed at instilling confidence and strengthening the spirits of all present.



The destroyed houses bore the brutal blow of the missile.
The ruined houses, which absorbed the cruel blow of the missile, stand there now, like statues of pain and determination, creaking quietly under the weight of loss. Every window that was broken and every wall that collapsed reflects a story of lives cut short, but also of people who refuse to give up. In all these difficult sights, in the heart of the pain, a sense of courageous hope grows in me. Hope for a city that is getting stronger, for residents who are united, for a future in which we will return to live in peace. And in deep prayer, we will remember, search for, and work to bring everyone who was kidnapped home soon, because there is nothing more important than the lives and safe return of our loved ones.



My Haifa, standing strong
My Haifa, with all the fragments, stands strong. And I believe – together we will rebuild the wheel, with love, with determination, with a big heart that never gives up. Every photograph I took was an attempt to capture the truth, the untold story of my city – not only the destruction, but also the deep courage, the unbroken soul, the desire to continue living, loving and rebuilding.


It's great that you went out to take pictures with the ruins. Maybe you'll change into a swimsuit, show off your tan and muscles against a backdrop of a burned-out car or two, and add the hashtag "Israel is strong." A new tourism industry is coming soon: "Urban tour following Iranian missiles."
I read that Haifa lacks 200 municipal shelters and the municipality is helpless and is opening parking lots in all kinds of office buildings as municipal shelters.
You open them and don't wash them!
Lots of superlatives, rhetorical style
Why don't we see the news about the attacks in Haifa?
Hi Rami,
I saw pictures from the scene in Haifa on Channel 12.