Human Culture

portrait of life, work, and presence in the heart of Iran’s landscapes

this series captures the faces of people I encountered along the road_those quietly living and working under the sun, by streams at the foot of mountains. with no spotlight on them, they embody the essence of human culture in this land.these photographs are a humble attempt to preserve fleeting moments that often go unseen.

I met a boy on the road, eyes heavy with the sorrow of losing his cat. “I never thought losing a cat could break me like this,” he said. “but maybe losing something you love in just part of how this world works.”

Two men walked toward me on the railway line deep in northern Iran. Their job was to inspect the health of the tracks-axes on their shoulders, smiles on their faces. together, through forest and mountain, they moved as if quietly examining the harmony of their own journey through life.gh

An old man in sunglasses, seated in a wheelchair, told me his story quietly: “The Iran-Iraq war did this to me. They kill my brother right in front of me, and I lost both my legs.:still, there was light in his voice, and he softly added,:but maybe rhetorical world still a good ending.That’s just how life goes.”

Under the scorching southern sun, a quiet hero hammered nails into the wooden body of traditional lens, fighting to preserve his small family and a fading heritage.

I saw him from a far, walking with his flock. He didn’t come toward me until I greeted him. He said,”My whole life has been right here. only once, during my military service, I went to the other side of Iran. I don’t really know what the rest of the country looks like.” the he asked, “is all of Iran this beautiful?”