Kabul Spring.
Once upon a time, but not very long ago, the world changed. It was not the Berlin wall or Saigon that fell, or even when phones became mobile and almost smart. No, it was in Kabul and it was in spring. And it was a few years after the time of public executions.
Once upon a time, but not very long ago, the world changed. It was not the Berlin wall or Saigon that fell, or even when phones became mobile and almost smart. No, it was in Kabul and it was in spring. And it was a few years after the time of public executions.
The Swing - Kabul Spring
Sugarcane Juice - Kabul Spring
Home Guard - Kabul Spring
After School - Kabul Spring
Night - Kabul Spring
Selling Pants - Kabul Spring
Friendship - Kabul Spring
Rush Hour - Kabul Spring
It was a time of high hope and idealism, of visions of a bright future for all. Of a future that would erase the memory of past drudgery. There was taped music in the air, from speakers that had long been silenced and hidden from sight. Flowers appeared as if out of nowhere and women and men delighted in perfuming themselves. And everyone seemed to contribute to that hope, and everyone in turn was enthused by the daily changes that took place.
Roads were built, homes re-decorated, shops opened, cars and bicycles were sold and bought, markets suddenly offered what previously was only dreamt of. The schools were full of girls and boys, wedding dresses were displayed instead of only talked about, people smiled and children laughed. Bakeries flourished on this hope as did anyone able to sell something tasty or pretty. These were good times, and they were going to last.
At times the memories and the present time of change and new beginnings clashed. People sometimes stopped at street corners, not knowing why, and wondering if this change was really true or if it was only a cruel mirage. But it was true. Yet also there were the shadows of that past hardship.
Such was the confusion that brought these photographs into being. They are of people who bought books previously banned, of children who greeted strangers in the street, of people selling and buying, and of grown men on swings and remembering the happy days of their childhood.
The past and present collided in colours that celebrated the change and warned of the possibility that not all can be taken for granted. The pendulum of life had swung for the better, but was still a pendulum. And as everyone knows, the pendulum does what it is does best. It swings.
Roads were built, homes re-decorated, shops opened, cars and bicycles were sold and bought, markets suddenly offered what previously was only dreamt of. The schools were full of girls and boys, wedding dresses were displayed instead of only talked about, people smiled and children laughed. Bakeries flourished on this hope as did anyone able to sell something tasty or pretty. These were good times, and they were going to last.
At times the memories and the present time of change and new beginnings clashed. People sometimes stopped at street corners, not knowing why, and wondering if this change was really true or if it was only a cruel mirage. But it was true. Yet also there were the shadows of that past hardship.
Such was the confusion that brought these photographs into being. They are of people who bought books previously banned, of children who greeted strangers in the street, of people selling and buying, and of grown men on swings and remembering the happy days of their childhood.
The past and present collided in colours that celebrated the change and warned of the possibility that not all can be taken for granted. The pendulum of life had swung for the better, but was still a pendulum. And as everyone knows, the pendulum does what it is does best. It swings.
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