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That image isn’t mine—a departure from the usual layout of this newsletter. I saw it for the very first time this morning, while browsing through my feeds. Part of an epitaph, unfortunately. But it was like...thunder. It grabbed me, instantly—the movement, the proximity...horses and men like so many frenzied brushstrokes. And those receding figures, dissolving in a dust cloud. I had to share it with you. That world no longer exists. The men have gone, their kingdom lost...the photographer now asleep, part of history. Growing up, one of my favourite movies was The Man Who Would Be King, based on Kipling’s story of two adventurers who end up ruling the imaginary kingdom of Kafiristan...and their subsequent fall from grace. The movie is epic—Huston at his best—and it sparked my imagination, my wanderlust. But beyond the antics and rousing entertainment, it was also a cautionary tale: about greed, about lies and about the stain of colonialism. The film was shot in Afghanistan, which probably explains the strange recognition I felt when I came upon this picture. Because we understand and process everything though our own memories and experiences. Photography might simply be our way to invite others on that journey.
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