Peshawar, Pakistan, September 1988.

At the end of the 10-year war between Afghanistan and the USSR, there were an estimated 100,000 Afghan war widows. Countless people were displaced and living in refugee camps along the border in Pakistan, including this girl and woman. I don’t know her name, but I call her Amira, which means princess. She has been my conscience and my quiet guide throughout this project. And when I have deviated from it, It has been her imploring eyes and wise face that kept pulling be back in order to finish it.