The weekend was full of nostalgia. After spending two nights back in the city where I had lived for half a year in 6th grade, every glance brought a moment of déjà vu or a recollection of what once had been and now has changed. Sarona market reminded me of distinct memories walking through Shuk HaNemal on the Tayelet, and just the sight of Shuk HaCarmel revived distant memories of spices and fruits wafting from the stands of the multitude of merchants. Walking down Tel Baruch beach and exploring Nachalat Binyamin, I took strange comfort in the fact that they were just as I remembered them.

The rest of the city however was an eye opener to me. I had not been aware enough when I was 11 years old to perceive what life was like for many Tel Aviv residents, I had merely turned an innocent eye. Especially two days after the Tayelet stabbings, I kept a watchful gaze on my surroundings. It was a much different feeling from the warmth and safety radiating from every Israeli that walked by me five years ago. Now there was an air of mistrust and caution that suffocated the warm sea breeze and settled over the land of Israel.