1. 9 December


    Here in Dushanbe, the memories are vivid and strong, Thankful for what the afghani gave, the way they were open, and everything they offered during these weeks, the ride and the first glimpse of the country, the intensity of crossing these lands, the exciting unknown, the fear of the unknown, scattered by gorgeous sceneries, by great people, by war scenes, these man standing on a hill or by the road, often holding their hands in the back, their wife, draped into the impressive and long blue burqua, their children, running around, playing, sceneries likewise passing again and again along the way.  Then arriving to the messy Kabul, the beautiful Kabul, the tensed Kabul, the complex Kabul, Kabul… The thoughts are still hard to catch.. The ride to Panjshir, and the great mountain people, the gorgeous sceneries, the women by the river washing clothes, walking with the children, the men, standing by the edge over looking the valley, the yogurt and the tea shared with the old mens in a dusty room…  The Kabul late in the day, with this soft golden light on the rooftops, the dust surrounding everything, melting them together in this clear brown tone… the little kids riding their bikes… The Kabul terrible, with the bomb strike, later, the great and calming atmosphere of the schicha place, the great people… Feeling today, humble, and incredibly thankful. Over and over, these images, now, great memories, a day, each days, leading you step by step through experiences, through the unknown, looking at what was, what will be, and what is… going simply, through life. در

    Here in Dushanbe, the memories are vivid and strong,

    Thankful for what the afghani gave, the way they were open, and everything they offered during these weeks, the ride and the first glimpse of the country, the intensity of crossing these lands, the exciting unknown, the fear of the unknown, scattered by gorgeous sceneries, by great people, by war scenes, these man standing on a hill or by the road, often holding their hands in the back, their wife, draped into the impressive and long blue burqua, their children, running around, playing, sceneries likewise passing again and again along the way. 

    Then arriving to the messy Kabul, the beautiful Kabul, the tensed Kabul, the complex Kabul, Kabul… The thoughts are still hard to catch..

    The ride to Panjshir, and the great mountain people, the gorgeous sceneries, the women by the river washing clothes, walking with the children, the men, standing by the edge over looking the valley, the yogurt and the tea shared with the old mens in a dusty room… 

    The Kabul late in the day, with this soft golden light on the rooftops, the dust surrounding everything, melting them together in this clear brown tone… the little kids riding their bikes… The Kabul terrible, with the bomb strike, later, the great and calming atmosphere of the schicha place, the great people…

    Feeling today, humble, and incredibly thankful.

    Over and over, these images, now, great memories, a day, each days, leading you step by step through experiences, through the unknown, looking at what was, what will be, and what is… going simply, through life.

    در