Mahane Yehuda Market. It's 1:40 p.m. "Pretty empty here," says a friend who came from the center to spend Shabbat in Jerusalem. "Maybe we'll go to the center of the old train station, see how they made the artificial beach?" I agree. Maybe we'll find something to photograph there. But after wandering around there a lot, I realized: there's nothing like the market. In the train complex, I found only one person, who you'll read about right away.•
Mandy Zilbershlag. As soon as I saw him, I immediately looked for the missing part. And indeed, his daughter, who is often photographed with him, was next to him in a stroller, enjoying life, laughing, celebrating the double outing with both parents. I asked to take a picture of her with him, but the answer was obvious: 'I only upload pictures of the girl.' So I'll wait during the week to see what he uploads. In the meantime, enjoy a picture of him.
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We returned to the market. The noise had subsided, the vendors' shouts were no longer so loud, but even a deaf person could hear the girl's cry from behind: "Dad, they're taking pictures of us." And the father indifferently replies: "Well then...""
""Isn't that Eli Yishai?" asks the friend with me. I laugh. "If it were Eli Yishai, he would be hidden among dozens of selfie seekers." I took a picture to show him up close. After he looked, he said: "Well, it's not Eli Yishai, but you could mistake him.".
""Give me a kilo of grapes, please, weigh it." "I'm going to pack some things in a bag for my wife," the seller replies. And so he weighs grape after grape, adjusting to the exact weight, in order to pay accurately. "I won't bother you, the money is on the scale," he said when he finished weighing the grapes.
""Come on, don't take pictures," Avigdor Rabinowitz told me before I even recognized him. The truth? I almost gave up. But then Shlomi Gil arrived, a family newspaper reporter who had recently made a working visit to Brazil. Apparently the yellow shirt is a relic of his days there. One photo together, a smile full of happiness, and I moved on.
He is a gracious and kind man, a man who understands the hearts of young men, and is always surrounded by young men who listen to what he has to say. This time in the market, Rabbi Ben Chaim does the shopping for Shabbat alone.
A babysitter is close by. And so, on his shoulders, looking down from above, he watches over the entire market. And he - follows the shopping and doesn't seem to be missing anything. Maybe he actually is: sunglasses. Well, that's why they went in there, to buy.
""Come donate to the soldiers, come donate to the soldiers." In the past, a boy his age would shout, "Come buy pretzels." I take a picture of him with an aggressive look, as he pleads again: "Come donate to the soldiers." Just before I leave, he asks/shouts at me: "Have you donated yet?""
""Hear, O Israel, the Lord..." I already know, I once assumed, the man says to the Chabad emissary at the podium. And so, when he finishes, he gently asks: "Can I pray with tefillin for the success of the soldiers?"'
Zvika's Power, that's how the sticker is attached to his chest. Surrounded entirely by Israel's doublets on his hat, stickers of encouragement on his body, he moves around the market. When I asked what Zvika's Power was? - he replied: "And Magellan's Power, do you know what it is? There are things you don't ask." And he continued moving around the market.
""How did you know all the details about me?" Boaz Lederman turns to me, still holding a heavy watermelon. I don't remember writing much about you, I answer. And he says: "That's right, you didn't write that I was an electrician." Boaz Lederman is indeed one of the best and most diligent electricians I know. And what about the watermelon? I ask, trying to peek into the bag. And he laughs: "Don't touch it, it's already electrified.".
""Who are you taking pictures for? Why didn't you take pictures of me? What's wrong with taking pictures of me with carrot juice in my hand?" That's how he asked dozens of questions at once. So tell him I took pictures, tell him who I took pictures of too.
""Cha Cha, don't you know Cha Cha?" the guy on the left asked me. I really have no idea who Cha Cha is. "Write that you photographed Cha Cha in the market, everyone already knew." His wife next to him smiles. I ask her if it's okay to call him that in the article, and she continues to smile and says: "Of course, everyone calls him that, Cha Cha.".
""I just came to buy Shabbat newspapers, I don't think you had time to take a picture of me from this close," he told me with a smile reserved only for him. I didn't have time to answer him, because he was in a real hurry, but at least I have one picture.
A conversation about the war. He's getting ready to leave. "This way you can take a picture of me, with the shopping in my hand, so they can see that I'm helping around the house," he ended the conversation exactly as we started it, when he explained to me why I shouldn't take a picture of him with empty hands.
The last time they were at the market and I took a picture, there were only two of them. This time they came as a full family, and stood around to have their picture taken. They asked me to take a picture of the newborn, they told me his name, but in the heat of the market - I forgot. At least I brought the picture of the little one.
Here is the pretzel seller, in an old-fashioned hat, with big round eyes, drinking juice and glancing at my camera. One click, and boom - he's gone. He must have lingered too long and ran to look for his parents.
""Last time I already received a lot of compliments, don't take a picture of me like that." But the picture came out great, I tell him, and you look good too. And he, with a shy smile, asks to see the picture, half-heartedly approves of it, and says: "Don't write a lot of superlatives about me." So here, I don't write much, I just say: he is the first editor.
The manager and employees: Shaya Deitch from Shama, the man who has all the money you will ever spend in your life in his hands, he has been handing it over every day since he was 18, he also came to the market with his family, who refuse to be photographed. When he met his employees - he agreed to be photographed. By the time I finished taking pictures, they had already gone out for a ceasefire and smoking.
In the community, he peeks out of the bag. One picture, with a smile. What's under the community? I ask. And he replies: "Huh, Yedioth Ahronoth." And so, during the question and answer session, his friend takes the opportunity to enter the picture again.
Every child has a balloon, at a ridiculous price, that's how he advertises his wares. Within minutes of arriving at the market, his wares are snapped up. He smiles, inflates balloons, bends over to the children, places them on their hands and makes beautiful shapes. So the next time you see him, remember: You can ask for any shape. He'll do it with a smile.
He is short, but stubborn. With a piercing gaze, he is bouncy and splashy, but also curious. Next to his father, he jumps from stall to stall, and every time I try to take a picture of him, he just moves. And here is a picture of curious eyes and a dried fruit stall, while his father is shopping.
Sam Bagel also come to the market to buy wine. "So why don't you take a picture of us?" I took a picture. Then the discussion took place between them and me, where and how they will see the pictures. Go to the website and see, I say. "But we are not Haredi." Okay, friends will pass it on to you, I tell them. "But who said they would recognize us," they ask again. So if you recognized them - just send them the picture.
The height of the market, a view so different from below, that I didn't even think about it. But Itzik Halperin, who also came to the market, took the camera and lowered it to the heights that created this beautiful picture.
""What's going on? What's up? Talk to me on the first." Meeting friends, shaking hands. This is how radio announcer Yossi Ben Atar's journey goes through the Mahane Yehuda market on Friday. Behind him, his brothers and sisters trail, admiring everything their big brother does.
""But I also want Coke candies." And the father responds: "Don't touch it with your hands, we'll buy Coke candies too." Because there are things you never give up.
She is an artist, they are curious, she paints the person sitting across from her, and they all watch. Around her, the market stands still. Every few minutes, the circle widens with another curious person, who just wants to peek and gets hurt - and stays until someone calls him back to life.
The curious ones on Friday don't end there. The boy who sees the camera and me starts playing hide-and-seek with me. Every time the camera is raised towards him, he buries his head in the cart, until the moment when he isn't fast enough.
The camera focused on the man in the back, tying his bangs to his head. But before I could take a picture, the one with the cardboard on his head emerged - and hid. In short, the result was a picture in which there were more interesting things than there were missing. .
Sometimes image is more important, especially if you're a yeshiva student. But what do you do if you've just returned from a soccer game at the Sacer Garden and you have nowhere to change clothes? The answer is here: just wear a white shirt over your T-shirt.
Michael Afran arrived with his wife and young child, who is his first time at the Mahane Yehuda Market, straight from Upper Nazareth. There, his wife works in a chain of bakeries under her management and serves as their head pastry chef. They wandered around the market and didn't want to leave. "There's nothing like the atmosphere of Jerusalem and the market in particular, it's really become something charming," said Michael, and from there we moved on to talking about technical details. You may see the results of the conversation on the website in the future.
And when I started the story about the missing boy, the pretzel seller, I found the screaming boy. Then you saw the boy with the pretzel seller's hat. And now I found the boy eating pretzels. That's how it is when you want to film "a boy selling pretzels." It comes in parts.
The parliament of Mendy Grozman, Itzik Halperin, Dobla Heller and others, sat at the edge of the emptying market. The members opened the newspapers and began to discuss. After I took the picture, I heard the cry: "But why take a picture of me with a stake." If you haven't guessed, the cry came from Mendy Grozman.
On the public phone, with ironed clothes, I wish you a happy Shabbat. The phone near the market is empty of people and there is no one to ask or wait on thorns until he finishes the call. Thus the conversation with the family proceeds calmly. Greetings are received and conveyed, in preparation for the approaching Shabbat.
I'm on my way to the car. A huge sign that they just finished hanging on the car reminds me that although the market is bustling with life, there's a war outside. One picture and a wish in my heart that not only the hugging Golani, but all the soldiers will return home safely.
Just a second before I slam the door, to leave for the ride, I hear the question. The camera is still on my lap, so a quick picture is enough. Duci Godstein came to the market. Because there are things you don't miss even after you get married.
