There was no wind; it was his childlike joy, his carefree bouncing up and down, that set his hair dancing. And the light of the setting sun flowed through his hair like a stream, creating, in that fleeting moment, an image of freedom, vitality, and the unadorned world of...
On a relatively cold day, a middle-aged man sits in a simple, makeshift eatery at a traditional weekly livestock market. With a piece of bread and meat in one hand and a special local spice in the other, something in his surroundings suddenly catches his eye and completely captures...
During Nowruz, a Kurdish girl in a delicate and beautiful traditional dress carries a handmade torch to the summit of a high and rugged mountain. There, together with her people, she keeps alive an ancient tradition—lighting fires and raising torches to welcome and celebrate the ancient festival of Nowruz.
Symbols outlive their origins; they return in new forms, carrying memories we no longer know how to name.
Sometimes the world looks back at us through an unexpected eye.
One face, two reflections, and a question of who we become when we see ourselves through another gaze\.
Somewhere between the face we show and the one we carry, another self begins to appear\.
A woman wearing a chador walking through an alley and entering a *sabat* (vaulted passageway) in the city of Yazd.
In the city of Yazd, the chador is the attire of many middle-aged women.