Israel
Tel Aviv was laid out on sand dunes north of Jaffa in 1909 and Jerusalem has been built on top of itself for three thousand years, and I spent my time there walking both of them. In Tel Aviv it is all recent and already worn: stucco coming off in sheets, a demolition lot fenced off beside a block of flats, fly-posters layered up a corner until the paper is thicker than the paint. Jerusalem does the same thing more slowly and in stone, in the covered markets with the stalls shuttered, the stepped lanes hollowed out by everyone who has ever climbed them, the walls of the quarters that are named for who holds them. Every surface in both cities has been claimed, lost, and claimed again.
The Dead Sea, at the end of the same short road, is where this runs out. There is a settlement at Kalia built in 1929 for the workers at the potash plant, abandoned in 1948, held as an army camp until 1967, opened as a beach resort, and left derelict, and it stands now on a salt flat with the water kilometers away and going further every year, drawn off by the same industry that put it there. I photographed the Salton Sea as a place undone by water arriving. This is the same account with the water running the other way. These are photographs of what each claim left behind.