Chador

LARGE

11.

Similar to Eastern Turkey, photographing women here, especially outside of the cosmopolitan areas, is a difficult task. Or at least the situation does not present itself as often as it does with the men, who open their profile more readily as you approach with a camera in hand.

And I did take some portraits today, as I usually do, but the selection I had was entirely male. And so I opted for this one, taken in the historic centre of Yazd.

This area comprises a warren of high mud walls which occasionally give way to a courtyard. Thick arches provide some shade whilst walking around under the midday sun and the shadows loop round across the floor in a spiral. But I prefer this place in the evening, as the sun sets.

It's as if the darkness of the many side streets oozes out into the main thoroughfare, which is only sparsely lit by hanging light-bulbs and the ubiquitous neon lights of the grocery stores. You have to keep an ear out for the motorbikes in order guess which lane they're going to pop out of.

What fascinates me the most, though, in these higgeldy-piggeldy streets, is watching the women in their black chadors. I was walking behind one woman last night- she kept up a mean pace- and when she turned down an un-lit back alley she was entirely swallowed up by the darkness and the total silence.

Rather surreal.