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Women often wear several watches.
“I was given a watch for my wedding – it broke. Then my mother in law gave me a new one, so now I have two on my wrist”, says Rosman’s wife.
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Women often wear several watches.
“I was given a watch for my wedding – it broke. Then my mother in law gave me a new one, so now I have two on my wrist”, says Rosman’s wife.
I climbed up a hill, and then up a small tree and stood there, waiting for the horses to come. That day, riders gathered on a snowy plain to play Buzkachi, a raw and ancient Central Asian horse game played since the days of Ghengis Khan. Tajikistan.
Near the frozen Chaqmaqtin lake, a herd of yak grazes below the Pamir mountains. Incredibly adaptable animals, they push snow with their hooves to feed on the wintery brown grass.
I processed the film few months after returning from Mongolia. It was the first time one of my photographs surprised me — something abstract to it that I did not control. I tried to get it back, that did not work out. But other things happened. After her morning session milking the yaks, Chimi looks at me, her sister twirls in the back. Near the Zagastain Davaa, or Fish Tail Pass. I used an old Nikon camera with a waist viewer.
A tea pot. Kyrgyz and Wakhi can drink up to 30 cups of salty milk tea daily, it helps with altitude dehydration. There is also a proverb that says that a Kyrgyz nomad will never walk, and always get on his horse, even when he goes to pee.
Flood-driven debris clogs the Maniqui River shallows where Cunay bathes. A great orange tip butterfly, common in the Amazon, casts a shadow on his back. Even in old age – Cunay is 78 – most Tsimane remain lean from walking miles a day to gather enough food to survive. The Tsimane of Bolivia get most of their food from the river, the forest, or fields and gardens carved out of the forest.
Early morning with Daryo Boi. Everyone calls him Momo, he is the shepherd hired by the khan (the community’s chief), here in his work outfit shortly after the herd left the coral (sheep pen). Love the details in the fabric.
Drying hay, Uttarakhand, India.
I met Deepak Sunita, a lone pilgrim, in Madhya Pradesh. He carries holy water from the Narmada River in his tin. Life can be simple.
A young Pamiri girl swings from an apricot tree on the remote Devlokh summer settlement. Bartang valley, Tajikistan.
“The Pamir mountains are one of the bleakest and least known corners of the world: remote, mysterious and, at one time, dubbed the third pole.” – A quote from a magnificent book: “Mountains of the Gods” by Ian Cameron. After a 3-day snow storm, a yak caravan returns to Ech Keli camp in the Afghan Pamir. Wakhan Corridor.
Two hundred and seventy three seconds of a winter night at Ech Keli camp, 4,400 meters. Afghan Pamir.
Two young Kyrgyz girls walk up a frozen river to fetch water at the a spring on the edge of camp. Ech Keli camp, Afghan Pamir.
Taklamakan desert, Xinjiang, China.
It was the middle of winter in Siberia. A horse rider, she took a break near the hills surrounding Baikal Lake.
Fakir Mohammed; he was the oldest at Dode Khuda’s wedding. A home-spun cloth made of hemp, beautiful turban, and the right stare, respect.
In the rural village of Moires, Crete, farmer Fanouris Alexopoulou prunes his olive trees in the spring so they will bear more fruit. That will provide Alexopoulou’s family with more olive oil, a source of income as well as a staple of their diet. In parts of the grove, the farmer tills the ground between the trees and plants potatoes, fava beans, and other vegetables. Greece.
“I had a book with me, I stole it from a Hollywood stall, ‘Le Grand Meaulnes’ by Alain-Fournier, but I preferred reading the American landscape as we went along.” – extract from “On the Road” by Jack Kerouac. Pine tree near Fields, Oregon, USA.
Reaching Garam Cheshma village after crossing the Darkot An (4690m / 15490 feet) with my wife and sons. Entering the Hindukush range near the Afghan border. Pakistan, Yarkhun valley
Boulders pushed by the Garum Cheshma glacier, near Boroghil pass on the Afghan border. Hindukush, Pakistan.
Photo studio, Uttarakhand, India.
Her mother was busy doing p’tok, a thick bread cooked right inside the fire. Gul knew the herd was back, she stepped out and found the goats for milking. Tea will follow. Warm summer settlement, Waramdeh Valley.
We arrived at night, guessing our way up a steep hill. There was a house but no light; we called out. Darvish eventually arrived, he remembered me from 12 years ago! He gave hay to our donkeys and invited us inside. We sat next to the fire. Gul Dista, his daughter-in-law, was drying her hair in front of the open hearth, quiet moment like many others. Summer 2017.
The forest surrounding a shrine. Here, no trees can be cut and no fallen branches can be used for fire; everything must stay as it is.
The forest surrounding a shrine. Here, no trees can be cut and no fallen branches can be used for fire; everything must stay as it is.
The return home after fetching wood for cooking in Khuramabad pasture, a two hour walk from Hussaini village, across the Hunza valley riverbed. Karakoram, Pakistan.
One-month-old Idash was lucky to be born in summer. Babies born in winter in the Little Pamir have only a small chance for survival. Afghanistan.
Shrine in Hotan, Xinjiang, China.
Shrine in Hotan, Xinjiang, China.
Ikhbal (15 years old) has been crying off and on for two days. Recently married, she is both sad to leave her family nest and anxious about her future at her husband’s camp.
Fifteen year-old Iqbal has been married for two months. Today is the veil ceremony, where she will exchange her childhood crimson veil for a married woman’s white headdress. She struggles and cries as the older women around her get ready to fasten the white veil on her head.
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