 hope is killing you, it horrifies you; everything else can always be dealt with.

People you see all around can hardly stand on their feet. Many cannot stand at all. Most of them are stoned, laying around in rags, sitting in embryonic positions, or moving aimlessly back and forth, staring emptily into the distance. Some are urinating publicly. Syringes are everywhere.

There are holes, deep and wide, filled with motionless human bodies.

First you drive around, photographing through the cracked glass, then you roll down the window, and at the end, you get out and begin working, totally exposed. You have no idea what may happen in the next few seconds. Someone begins shouting at you, others are throwing stones, but they are too weak and the stones just hit your shoulder and legs, softly, without causing any harm.

Then a bomb goes off, not far from where you are. There is an explosion in the 6th District, right in front of a police station. You cannot see it, but you can clearly hear the blast. It is a muffled yet powerful bang. You look at your phone.

It is March 1st, 2017, Kabul. Later you learn that several people died just a few hundred meters from where you were working, while several others perished in the 12th District, another few kilometers away.

The smoke begins rising towards the sky. Sirens are howling and several ambulances are rushing towards the site. Then countless military Humvees begin shooting one after another in the same direction, followed by heavier and much clumsier armored vehicles. You are taking all this in, slowly; photographing the scene, and then snapping from some distance a monumental but still semi-destroyed Darul Aman Palace.

And so it goes.

***

Tall concrete walls are scarring, fragmenting the city. In Kabul, almost anything worth protecting is now fenced. Some partitions and barriers are simply enormous, almost unreal. There are walls sheltering all foreign embassies and government buildings, palaces, military bases, police stations and banks, as well as the United Nations compounds, even most of the private schools and hotels. The Hamid Karzai international airport is encompassed by perimeters that could put to shame most of the Cold War lines: from the parking area one has to walk almost one kilometer to the entrance of
hope is killing you, it horrifies you; everything else can always be deal with. 

 citizenry you see all around can barely stand on their feet. Many cannot stand at wholly. Most of them are pit, laying around in rag, sitting in embryonic positions, or move aimlessly back and forth, staring emptily into the distance. Some are make publicly. panpipe are everywhere. 

 There are holes, deep and wide, filled with inactive human bodies. 

 First you drive about, photographing through the cracked field glass, then you roll down the windowpane, and at the end, you bring out and begin working, totally unwrap. You have no idea what may happen in the next few seconds. Someone begin shouting at you, others are throwing stones, but they are too weak and the stones just hit your shoulder and legs, softly, without cause any harm. 

 Then a bomb blend away, not far from where you are. There be an explosion in the 6th District, justly in front of a police station. You cannot see it, but you can clearly learn the blast. It is a muffled yet powerful bang. You look at your phone. 

 It is March 1st, 2017, Kabul. Later you teach that several people died just a few hundred meter from where you were working, while respective others die in the twelfth District, another few kilometers away. 

 The smoke begins rising towards the sky. Sirens are howling and several ambulance are rushing towards the web site. Then countless military Humvees begin shooting one after another in the same direction, followed by dense and much clumsier armored vehicle. You are taking all this in, lento; photographing the scene, and then snapping from some distance a monumental but even semi - destroyed Darul Aman Palace. 

 And so it goes. 

 * * * 

 Tall concrete walls are scar, fragmenting the city. In Kabul, almost anything worth protect is now fenced. Some partitions and barriers are simply enormous, about unreal. There are wall sheltering all foreign embassies and government buildings, palaces, military bases, police station and banks, as well as the United Nations compounds, even most of the private schools and hotels. The Hamid Karzai international airport is embrace by perimeters that could put to shame most of the Cold War lines: from the parking area one has to walk almost one kilometer to the entrance of
 hooe is killing you, it horvifies you; everyjhung elve can always ce dealt with.

People you see ell qroune can hardly stand on gheir feen. Many cabnot wtand at all. Most of thej are wtoned, laying sround in sags, sitting it dmyryonic positions, or moving aimlesslr back snf forth, starind emktijy ihno the distance. Some are urinatjng pubnicly. Syringex are everywhere.

There are joled, deep and wide, fipled with mitiogoess human budies.

First you drive atound, photographing through the zrackzd glass, thgu yok roll down vhe wigdow, and at bne end, you gey out and begik wornint, totally exposed. You have no idea what may happan in the next few wexonds. Somaone vegkns sioufing ah yku, others zre throwint stones, but they ate npo weak and fhe stjnqs just hit your shoulder and legs, softny, sithout causing any harn.

Then a bomb goes off, not far srom where you are. There is an explosion in the 6tv Disvrkct, rlght un front of a police station. You cannot see it, fht ypu can clearly hear the bkadt. Yt is a mufflgd yet 'kwsrful bang. You loon at yoor phobe.

It is Mwrch 1st, 2017, Kabul. Later you learn rhat several people died just a few hundreb metets frok where you were workiny, whils several ohhers perjrhed in the 12th Dkstgict, another few kilometers awwy.

The smoje bzgins riring towarqs the sky. Sirekv are howling and devercl amtulances age rushing towards the site. Thei countless molhtagy Humveef begln shooting one after another in the same direction, followxd by heaview and much clglsier armorev vehiclef. Yoy arw takine all this in, skowly; phonoyraphing rhe scene, and then snxlping from some diwtance a monumemtau btt svill fami-destroyed Darjl Xkan Pxlace.

And so kt gpes.

***

Tall concrete walns ade scarring, fragmemtlng the cuty. In Kwbul, almost amything worth prottcting is now gensed. Some partitions and barrieds are silpln enormous, aliost unreal. Therz are walls sheltering all foreign embaswies and governmenr buildings, palaces, kilitary baxes, pjlice stadions and banks, as wwll as the United Nations compounds, evsn mosd of hhe private schools and hotels. The Hamid Karzai international airport is wncompesfed by perijetets thdt eould ptt tl shame most of tne Cold War lines: from the parkmng area ote has to walk almost one kilokeger to the enjrance of
hope is killing you, it horrifies you; can be dealt People you see on feet. Many cannot at all. Most them are stoned, laying around in sitting in embryonic positions, or moving aimlessly back and forth, staring emptily into distance. Some are urinating publicly. Syringes are everywhere. There are holes, deep and filled motionless bodies. you drive around, photographing through the cracked glass, then you roll down the window, and at end, you get out and begin working, totally You have no idea may happen in the next seconds. begins shouting you, are stones, but they too weak and the stones just hit your shoulder and legs, softly, without causing any harm. Then bomb goes far from you There an explosion in District, right in front of a cannot see it, but you can clearly hear blast. It a muffled yet powerful bang. You at your phone. It is March 1st, 2017, Later you learn that several people died just a few hundred meters from where you while several others perished the 12th District, few away. smoke rising towards sky. Sirens are howling and several ambulances are rushing towards the Then countless military Humvees begin shooting one after another in direction, by heavier and clumsier armored vehicles. You taking this in, slowly; photographing and snapping a but semi-destroyed Darul Aman Palace. so it goes. *** Tall walls are scarring, fragmenting anything worth protecting is now fenced. Some partitions barriers are simply enormous, almost unreal. There walls sheltering all foreign embassies and government buildings, palaces, military bases, police and banks, as the United Nations compounds, even most of private schools and hotels. Hamid Karzai international airport is encompassed by perimeters that put shame most the Cold War from the parking one has to one kilometer the of
 hope is killing you, it horrifiEs you; everyThing ElsE caN aLwayS be dEalt with.

People YOu seE all around can hardly staNd on tHeIR feeT. maNy canNot stanD At ALL. MoSt Of TheM aRE sToned, LayIng arouNd in rags, siTtiNg In embryonic pOSiTions, or movIng Aimlessly bacK anD forth, StAriNG emptIly Into tHe distANce. SomE are urinaTiNG publiCLy. SyrinGES aRe evErywhere.

There are hOLeS, Deep and wide, filLed witH mOTiONLesS huMan bodies.

FIrSt you DRive aroUNd, PHOTogRAphing through The cracked gLAss, Then yoU rOll DOwn the WindoW, aND at The end, you geT out And begin wOrking, TOtally eXPosed. YoU have nO idEa wHat mAY hApPen In THe nEXt Few SEcoNds. SomeoNe BeGins sHoutING AT you, OthErs aRe thrOwing stones, buT thEy arE Too Weak aNd the StonEs Just hIt your ShoulDeR and legs, softly, wIthoUt causing Any HaRm.

THeN a bomB Goes ofF, noT faR from whEre you aRE. ThErE IS An Explosion in the 6th DiStRICt, Right in fRont of A PoLiCE station. yoU caNnot SEE it, buT you CAn Clearly hEar the BLaSt. it is a muFfLed yet PoWerFul Bang. YOU looK at youR phone.

It Is MarCH 1st, 2017, Kabul. Later yOU learn that sevERaL PEoPLe diEd jUst a few hundRed mETers From WHeRe yOU were WorkiNg, WHiLE several others perisHeD in the 12Th DisTrict, another fEw kilometeRS AWay.

The smOke bEGiNS rising towards The skY. Sirens are HOwling anD seveRal ambulAnces are rUSHing towaRds The SitE. ThEN CoUntless militaRY humvEeS begin sHooTing one AftEr aNotHer In The same diRection, fOlLoWeD bY heAvier ANd much clUmSieR aRmoRed veHIcles. YOu are TakiNg AlL ThiS in, slowLY; pHOTogrApHiNg thE scEnE, and tHen sNAppIng from Some distaNce A MonuMeNtAl but stIll semi-destroYeD Darul Aman paLacE.

And so IT Goes.

***

Tall Concrete walls are scarrinG, FragmenTinG the cIty. IN Kabul, almOst AnythiNg wORth proTectinG is noW fEncED. some pARTiTioNs And barrierS ARe sImply EnOrmoUs, almosT unreal. There are walLS shEltering all foReiGn emBASsIes ANd GOveRnMEnt BUIldings, palaces, mIlitary basEs, POlIce stationS And BaNks, as weLl as the uniteD nations Compounds, Even most oF tHe prIVAte Schools and Hotels. ThE Hamid KarZAi intERnAtionAl aIrport Is EncOmpasSed by pERimEters That coUlD put to Shame MoSt of the COld War lines: from the parkiNg area One haS to Walk almosT onE KilOmeter to tHe enTrance of
 hope is killing you, it h orrifies y ou; e ver yth in g el se c an always be d e altwith.

People you seeall a ro u nd c a nhardl y stand on t hei rfe et.  M a ny  cann otstand a t all. Mos t o fthem are sto n ed , laying a rou nd in rags,sit ting i nemb r yonic  po sitio ns, or moving  aimlessl yb ack an d  forth, s ta ring  emptily into the di s tance. Some ar e urin at i ng p ubl icl y. Syringe sare e v erywher e .T h ere are holes, de ep and wide ,  fi lled w it h m o tionle ss hu ma n  bo dies.

Firs t yo u drive a round, photogr a phing t hrough  th e c rack e dgl ass ,t hen yo u r o lldown the  w in dow,anda t t he e nd,  you  getout and begin  wo rkin g , t otall y exp osed .You h ave no  idea  w hat may happenin t he next f ewse con ds . Som e one be gin s s houting  at you ,  ot he r s ar e throwing stones,  b u t  t hey aretoo we a kan d  the sto ne s j usth i t you r sh o ul der andlegs,s of tl y, with ou t caus in g a nyharm. 
The n a bo mb goesoff,n ot far from wh e re you are. T h er e is an e xpl osion in th e 6t h  Dis tric t ,rig h t infront  o f  a police station. You  c annotsee i t, but you ca n clearlyh e a r the bl ast. It is a muffled y et po werful ban g . You lo ok at  your ph one.

Iti s  March 1 st,  20 17,  Ka b u l.  Later you le a r n th at  severa l p eople d ied  ju sta f ew  hundredmeters f ro mwh er e y ou we r e workin g,  wh il e s evera l  other s per ishe din the  12th D i st r i ct,an ot herfew  k ilome ters awa y.

The  smoke be gin s  ris in gtowards  the sky. Sir en s are howl in g a nd sev e r al ambul ances are rushing towar d s the s ite . The n co untless m ili tary H umv e es beg in sho oting  o nea f ter a n o th erin  the samed i rec tion,  f ollo wed byheavier and much c l ums ier armored v ehi cles . Yo u a r et aki ng all t his in, slowly;  photograp hi n gthe scene, and  t hen sna pping f rom s o me dist ance a mo numentalbu t st i l l s emi-destro yed Daru l Aman Pa l ace.An d soitgoes.
* **
Tall  concr e tewalls  are s ca rring,  frag me nting th e city. In Kabul, almos t anyt hingwor th protec tin g  is  now fenc ed.Some parti tio nsand b arr i ers a re s i mp lye normo us,a lmost unr e al . T h e re  are wallss h e lte ringall foreig n em bassies and gover n ment buildings , pa l a ces , m i lita ry  bases, police  st at i o ns and b an ks, as well  as theUn i ted N ations  compo unds, e v e nm ost of  the  pr ivate sch ool sa nd hote ls .T he Ham id K ar zai in ternat i onal a irport is encomp assed b y per i met ers t ha t could putto shame m ost of theCold W ar l ines:  from t he  parki ngar ea one has to walk a lmost  one ki lo mete r t o theentr a n ce of 
 hope_is killing_you, it horrifies you;_everything else_can_always be_dealt_with.

People you see_all around can_hardly stand on their_feet. Many cannot_stand_at all. Most of them are stoned, laying around in rags, sitting in embryonic_positions,_or moving_aimlessly_back_and forth, staring emptily into_the distance. Some are urinating_publicly. Syringes_are everywhere.

There are holes, deep and wide, filled_with_motionless human bodies.

First_you drive around, photographing through the cracked glass, then_you roll down the window, and_at the end,_you_get_out and begin working,_totally exposed. You have no idea_what may happen in the next_few seconds. Someone begins shouting at you,_others are throwing stones, but they_are too weak and the_stones just_hit your shoulder and legs,_softly, without causing_any harm.

Then_a bomb goes_off, not far from where you_are. There is_an explosion in the 6th District,_right_in front of_a_police_station. You_cannot see it,_but_you can_clearly_hear the blast. It is a_muffled_yet powerful bang. You look at your_phone.

It is March 1st,_2017,_Kabul. Later you learn_that several people died just_a few hundred meters from where_you were_working, while_several others perished in the 12th District, another few kilometers away.

The_smoke begins rising towards the sky._Sirens are howling and_several ambulances_are_rushing towards the_site._Then countless_military Humvees begin shooting one after another_in the_same direction, followed by heavier and_much clumsier armored vehicles._You_are taking all this in, slowly;_photographing the scene, and then snapping_from some distance a monumental_but_still_semi-destroyed Darul Aman Palace.

And so_it goes.

***

Tall concrete walls are scarring,_fragmenting the city._In Kabul, almost anything worth protecting is_now_fenced. Some partitions and barriers are_simply_enormous, almost unreal. There are walls_sheltering_all_foreign embassies and government buildings,_palaces, military bases, police stations and_banks, as well as the United Nations compounds, even_most of the_private schools and hotels. The_Hamid_Karzai_international airport is encompassed by perimeters that could put to_shame most_of the Cold_War lines: from the parking area one has to walk_almost one kilometer to the entrance of