I made a series of photos one November evening in 2013 called “Ghosts of Yemen,” not realizing that this would be the last time I’d see this place the way it was and always has been to me. Old, vibrant and majorly flawed. Power outages plagued these streets hourly, no water to keep the country or its people clean and hydrated, an immense amount of Qat chewing and backwardness that I can hardly relate to. A country so old, streets and corridors that have remained untouched since the beginnings of time. And I loved it so much.
I look back at these photos and truly feel those ghosts. Some ghosts are less present than others, light and fleeting, just passing through. Others haunt me, eyes that gaze, stinging like a burn that just won’t fade. I imagine these streets destroyed, crawling with fear, paranoia, grief and uncertainty. A feeling of helplessness, praying for these ghosts to move on, to rest in peace.