On a daily basis the residents of the fertile crescent find solutions to problems at hand with unique engineering skill and ingenuity. The question could be asked "why can't they find a solution to the problems of violence?" My speculation is that the everyday victim is an everyday person busy like the rest with everyday issues. The perpetrators work in numbers just enough to make a spectacle. And the people with money and power are only motivated to serve their own greed oriented interest. So politics becomes like the axiom for philosophy, "...it bakes no bread."
Another day's work, same as the last, for as far as history can see.
Parking Downtown
View of an Iraqi flag through a gun port atop an IP station.
Little ones watching over even littler ones.
What can I say? Everyday I see women working in their black cloaks in the summer sun, herding, reaping, and tending to animals, children, and crops as they have in this part of the world for thousands of years. I might feel a certain way but where does my opinion fall? Nowhere that could ever change anything, and that's what I have to tell myself when I get the wandering urge to act.
Young girls walking toward the middle of town. Which are the ones who end up in the fields, and which are not?
One of those accidental photos, I was set up to take her picture as we passed, but as I did the bike passed, and we passed the stationary man on the corner so I got all three.
Young girls, one with something in her hand that looks like it was made at school.
Almost a discarded shot. For some reason the automatic flash went off, but in spite of the flood of light on the filthy window ruining the shot the expressions on the young faces is priceless.
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