The photo is of one of the Pro Democracy protest that took place on the streets of Islamabad in October 07. The people there were brave, to risk jobs, security in the name of Democracy.
I stayed in a small village about 100 miles from Islamabad with a friend. In the dusk, we were walking, pretty much aimlessly, perhaps he was calling on a few friends. Below are some impressions. I often keep scrapbooks of impressions, and use them later when I write a short story or something...
The buzz of electricity on the cable overhead
The road, the walls, the parked motorbike: a study in grey
Voices murmuring as friends strain to part
Goats get that last feed of leaves
â€˜Hey a white man has come hereâ€™, says one small boy to another, looking at me (translation by my friend, as he chuckles)
The other boy offers his hand to me in an ultra formal welcome. I shake it and nod,
Wonder whether the first boyâ€™s vision, or the translation
A washed white light falls from a door frame onto the dirt track
A one eyed Ford Bedford beetles along
Slows where we stand by drain water, then beetles on
Another Bedford, a Toyota Loader, then a rattling motorbike whose
Rear plate says â€˜Licence Applied Forâ€™