| |
|||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|||||
|
 |
||||||||||||||||
 who were wounded by snipers as civilians or while serving on the frontline
as soldiers. I have watched them sweat and spin on a dime and flirt with
girls when practice is over and I have come away determined that the world's
final image of them be their strength and grace - and not the moment when
they lay sprawled on a city sidewalk, another tragic victim of war, another
image of despair. I want to tell the story of their aftermath. I want to
tell it all.
It may sound like a callous and cynical thing to say, but it is easier,
in some ways, to cover war and conflict than it is to cover its aftermath.
The story of war is obvious; its pictures of sorrow and death are the
stuff of Pulitzer prizes. It is of course true that the physical dangers
are exponentially greater, that there is a genuine danger in working as
a war photographer or reporter. I have no criticism of colleagues who
cover war and risk their lives doing it; war must be covered, the world
must be alerted to the tragedies and travesties committed in the name
of humankind. |
|
||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||
