I was 100m away when the shots rang out. It has changed Sydney forever

• Follow our live coverage of the Bondi shooting here.

Initially, I thought it was fireworks. But they just didn’t stop. It took about 15 seconds for my mind to clock what was happening. All hell was breaking loose.

I’d arrived at the northern tip of Bondi just minutes before. It had been a hot, humid Sunday, and the day was just coming into the golden hour. Who wouldn’t want to get in an evening swim?

I’d initially been tossing up whether to go to Clovelly – where it’s less pretty, but easier to find somewhere to dump your car – but after a friend who lived in Bellevue Hill said he’d be keen to join me, we decided we’d head to Bondi.

When a parking spot finally opened up at the northern end of the beach, my friend noticed he knew the man who’d just parked right in front of us. “Are you here for the Hanukkah event too?” he asked us after he got out of his car.

If you’re part of Sydney’s tight-knit Jewish community, running into someone you know in Bondi is a fairly common experience.

We hadn’t known the event was on – it’s a routine safety precaution for Jewish communal events to only have locations revealed hours before starting. But we told him we’d pass through later to check it out – after all, this is a festival where we celebrate oily foods, so the idea of a post-dip jam-filled doughnut sounded great.

But first, I was keen to get wet. So we headed past throngs of beachgoers, down towards the sand, glimpsing the large projected screen of a Hannukiah – the candelabra lit each of the eight nights of the festival – as we passed the park where it was being held.

We quickly plonked our towels and belongings down, took off our shirts, and waded in. It had cooled slightly, but it was still refreshing to dive under a choppy wave and submerge in the crisp seawater.

The first shots rang out a few seconds later. They sounded close – we were 100 metres away. I looked at my friend, and when we realised it wasn’t fireworks, the thought of the Hanukkah event popped into my head. Surely not.

We started looking around and began slowly walking back to shore.

Then, we saw people running from the direction of the park. My friend kicked into gear, and we bolted, racing with hundreds of others up the footpath.

People were moving as far away from the gunshots as they could. At this point, they’d been going for what felt like minutes – the longer it dragged on, the deeper the pit in my stomach sank.

Drummers who had been jamming in a weekly circle on the grass at the north end for the past few hours were suddenly cowering up against bushes.

Families were hurrying their kids up towards the streets of North Bondi. We were all standing there, dripping with salt water, barefoot and sandy, huddling behind garage doors and Art Deco unit blocks.

It was surreal.

By this point, locals had made their way to balconies and rooftops to watch what was unfolding, shouting advice to those on the streets as the gunshots were still ringing out.

After what felt like an eternity, we began to hear sirens from police and first responders. Gradually, the shots became less frequent.

Once it had been about five minutes without hearing any shots, my friend and I began sidling up against buildings back towards the park – and my car – where we could see authorities swarming on the scene.

As I finally made it to my car, I could hear my phone – which I’d left in the glove box – vibrating. It’s barely stopped buzzing since. Mostly family and friends checking if I was ok. Other calls were friends telling me they’d known people who were injured.

At that point, it was still dawning on me how lucky we were to have avoided the Hanukkah event.

Driving back to the inner-west where I live, there was a constant flow of ambulances driving in the opposite direction. I realised my sandals were still lying on the sand. What a stupid thought.

As the adrenaline pumps through you, it’s tricky to know exactly what to do after a situation like this. Who to call, who to talk to, but most importantly, how to be productive and helpful.

A good mate of mine then called to tell me his fiancee’s cousin was in hospital visiting their friend who had been shot.

It then dawned on me. I realised I wanted to get back home as soon as I could, before the names of the dead began to be publicly identified.

Who wants to learn of someone you know being shot while you’re driving down Cleveland Street. Shortly after arriving back, I learnt a friend’s uncle had died.

It’s an incredibly dark day for Sydney and Australia, for sure. But for the Jewish community, it feels like everything has changed.

I’ve been going to Bondi all my life. It’s the suburb where my parents took me home as a baby. But right now, a spiritual home has become a bloodied wasteland.

More coverage on the Bondi terror attack

• Updates: Sydney on high alert for further terrorist acts as multiple people killed
• Watch: Incredible footage shows the moment a hero bystander tackles one of the gunmen
• What we know so far: all the details of the mass shooting
• How the world reacted: Global leaders condemn ‘deeply distressing’ attack

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