The first time I saw someone smoking opium. I was hesitant to photograph. The younger son of the Khan, Wuruchan Noor Ullah, the ‘king’ of the Kyrgyz. It was raining outside, he was just back from patrolling the Tajik border, some yaks had gone missing, strolling into another country. Afghanistan.
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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