Sunday, June 10, 2007


A crippled father sits next to his daughter outside their villa. There is a distance between them.

I ventured outside the secure villa that we stay in and went for a short photowalk down the street. Flanked by two armed guards I got a chance to take some photographs of our neighborhood. People were friendly albeit curious. The guards were less than enthused about having to escort me down the street and back, but hey, I’m their boss.
Baghdad, like many ancient cities, is divided into neighborhoods, and within these are the ancestral homes of the families that make up the city. A person is known now and forever by the neighborhood that he or she grew up in; it defines them, empowers them, and even limits them.

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