There are no more living hostages in Gaza: Day 738

Four months ago, almost to the day, I pressed record on my camera as sirens blared. Iran was attacking Tel Aviv again, and my kitchen window with a few books was the tripod in which I recorded the direct missile hit that destroyed many of my friend’s apartments. 

Today, through that same window, I captured the helicopters delivering the returned hostages to Ichilov Hospital in Tel Aviv. It is a transformed Israel.

I have obsessively documented the hostage crisis. I have gone to every Saturday night rally (bar the ones I was not in the country for), have personally met with and volunteered with hostage families, have accompanied many well known journalists and political delegations to hostage square, and have visited most of the sites of the kidnapping. It has been my core focus and personal mission in the last two years to humanize Israelis with their approach to the hostage crisis through my camera lens. Photography forces the viewer to confront humanity, even if they “disagree” – I hope my work allows the viewer to feel – the fear, the noise, the sadness, the beauty, the love. I hope it makes them uncomfortable. 

Kikar Ha’chatufim – Hostage Square – has become the epicenter of emotional vulnerability for Israeli society.

A few days after October 7th, families of the over 250 Israeli and other foreign nationals taken hostage by Hamas set up almost daily protests in the silent square in front of the Tel Aviv Museum of Art. The location was in front of the military headquarters. It was strategic and served a dual purpose. The first, and most blatant, was a constant reminder to the decision-makers and military leadership of their utter failure to protect its people. The location served as a constant, ringing, reminder: bring them home – don’t fail them again. The second purpose developed as the war persisted into a nuanced community and emotional support hub for the families, community and country who felt the pain of October 7th. 

The notion of “returning to normal,” which is a common phrase in response to horrific trauma in Israel, is irrelevant at Hostage Square. It is a space that is not normal, and became the only place Israelis allowed themselves to collectively feel. 

Every Saturday night, Israelis would pause “normal” and come to the rally. Sometimes rallies were smaller, a few thousand people, and some pushed half a million. No matter the week, though, it was proof that life was not normal, no matter how hard we tried to make it so. 

That was true until today. As I walked through Hostage Square before dawn, I stumbled upon a man boiling water for coffee. Children were painting, and journalists from all over the world were interviewing Israelis wrapped in their country’s flag. There was a buzz in the air – anxiety and excitement and lack of sleep. Babies cried. Photographers argued with each other about getting in their shot. A woman was praying in front of the clock that marks the days, hours, and seconds since October 7th, 2023. The sun broke through the dawn and the sky turned blue. Normalcy was seeping into the square.

I stayed quiet, documenting these moments carefully. Normalcy is such a treasure. 

Updates followed: “7 released, 13 more in two hours.” “The red cross…” “Hamas facetimes Hostage families with their captive relatives.” Murmurs, and cries, and Israeli childhood songs echoed in the square. Euphoria and despair and anxiety for the day to succeed. For us to win.

A man on stilts tossed yellow balloons into the crowd. Fathers had small children on their shoulders. They spinned them around in the air, and giggles replaced the overflowing anguish of that space.

“There are no more living hostages in Gaza.” 10:52 am, October 13th, 2025. That’s when I cried for the first time. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I let my camera hang at my hip. My shoulders shook, and my friend, who also had tears streaming down her face, smiled at me. 

Day 738. 7+3+8=18 “Chai.” The people of Israel LIVE. 

We won.