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As a woman, I was able to spend time in spaces that would have remained closed to male travelers.

This portrait of my mountain guide was taken during a lunch break in one of the many stone shelters on the way to Shimshal Pass.

The first time I traveled through the Karakoram, I was captivated by the energy of these young women. They trained regularly for tournaments and often played alongside the boys from their village.

One of the last things I expected to find in the remote Karakoram Mountains was a women’s football league.

As a photographer, I’m drawn to the moments when landscape and people mirror one another. I encountered this again and again in the Afghan Pamir.

This photograph is not taken of someone.

I travel alone, but I never travel untouched.

On the morning of the Kyrgyz wedding in the Afghan Pamirs, about a dozen women gathered in the yurt to cook for the wedding party. The yurt wasn’t very spacious; dishes were piled high, and children kept slipping past the women. But the apparent chaos shouldn’t obscure the fact that every move was perfectly coordinated. Neither the children nor the hundred guests could disrupt the palpable calm and seamless teamwork.

Everything about this Kyrgyz girl is special. Her eyes, her hair, and the fact that she lives in the mountainous desert of the Afghan Pamirs. Where women contrast the barreness with the vibrant red of their dresses, wash dishes in icy mountain streams, and people live in yurts. Usually is only the sunburnt skin at over four thousand meters altitude.

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