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Every land tells a story. Every human landscape is charged with layers of time, action, and memory. The ground is not merely the surface upon which events unfold; it is their vessel. It preserves countless narratives that continue to accumulate throughout the life of a place. Nothing is ever erased—every encounter leaves its trace.

But is history the only way to read a place?

When I stand before a silent territory, I do not seek to ignore its past, nor do I wish to deny it. Instead, I choose to suspend it—to place knowledge, momentarily, in parentheses. This suspension is an attempt to allow the place to reveal itself anew, to transcend itself. It is the moment when physical space ceases to function solely as a geographical or historical object and begins to operate as a space of revelation. Much like sacred spaces, its significance lies not only in the events that have taken place there, but in its ability to invite those who enter it into a different state of consciousness. Only through this suspension can a genuine and organic encounter occur. An encounter mediated not by facts, maps, or historical narratives, but through the body, attention, and lived experience. In that moment, the nature of space itself changes. It ceases to be an object of knowledge and becomes a field of presence. Within this transition, another dimension emerges from the physical space a metaphysical one.

This is not a form of sacredness rooted in history, but one that arises from the way a place acts upon consciousness. Just as sacred spaces allow us to experience a reality that transcends the everyday, the suspension of the historical narrative enables the physical landscape to reveal another layer of existence—one that cannot be empirically verified, yet can be profoundly experienced.

This work is an ongoing photographic series and video work created in an abandoned area in northern Israel, near the border with a neighboring country. It is a landscape saturated with history, conflict, and memory. When I first encountered it, I chose, for a moment, not to know. I wanted to encounter the place before encountering its story.

I wandered through its fields, abandoned buildings, and remnants, allowing the landscape to speak through scale, light, materiality, distance, and silence. From this encounter emerged the image of an abandoned pirate enclave existing on land ,a territory sustained not by political borders, but by imagination and lived experience. With every return to this place, I add another layer to the ground. I do not replace history, nor do I erase it; I join it. My subjective reading becomes yet another narrative embedded within the landscape. This work proposes viewing the landscape not as a closed archive of the past, but as a living entity that continues to be shaped through every encounter. It asks whether it is possible even if only for a moment—to suspend what is already known, allowing a place to reveal itself anew: not only as historical evidence, but as a space of presence, imagination, and possibility.