Snow in August. We slept in our tent, right next to this Kyrgyz camp. She came to invite us for “chai” and stood there a second, waiting for us to get ready, gazing at her home, all she ever knew.
In summer 2005, my wife and I and our donkey Clémentine crossed Afghanistan’s Pamir into Pakistan’s Karakoram, over 300 km through several high passes. We came to deliver letters from the Afghan Kyrgyzcommunity in exile in Eastern Turkey, to the Afghan Kyrgyz community still living in Afghanistan. They had not been in touch for 25 years.
Print Details
Format: Archival print, printed with pigment ink on acid free Hahnemühle paper.
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