Since 1999 I have been photographing the Muslim republics of the former Soviet Union and in Afghanistan, the country that sank the imperium.
Film offers me the chance to record a slow, patient diary of impressions, unadulterated by insta-editing on an LCD screen. Often I know I won't see the pictures for years.
Together, they offer a portrait of a region constantly on the edge of something – empires, war, faith, change. Inevitably they also tell a story about me, lurking just beyond the frame, sleeping on the crowded floor of a chaihana, toasting with a bus driver, enduring tedium on a creeping train. They tell of encounters and intimacy, confrontations and serendipity.