The dichotomy of old and new, Arab and Jew finds me in the Old City of Zefad where cobblestone streets bare the weight of Nissans and Fords. Where my grandmother lives, in the house she was born, a well is covered by a stone.

I find my self walking through the streets of Nazareth. A man walks by wearing a Kafia and suit jacket, his hand held out for change. In the market, with the smell of coffee being ground with spices, a man sells Finjans next to a set of Tupperware. A little cathedral, hidden in an alley, looks into a set of stairs that leads to the history of a religion.

History is slowly being swallowed by the future. My favorite images always end up somewhere in nostalgia. In my black and white photography, I’m a sucker for history, anything with a past.