“I’m 66 years old. My name is Mohammed Khotab Hussain. I moved to Dhaka in 1974 from Jessore. I was blinded in a factory fire shortly after arriving. It’s a bitter sweet day for me today. I’m on my way to shake hands with my youngest daughter’s future husband and his father. They are a very good family and he is educated. A bookkeeper!
Of course, marriages are in the hands of Allah, and it’ll turn out how it will. She’s my last daughter to be married, and I call her my Nightingale. I’ll miss her sounds and smell around the house. I’ll miss touching her face. It’s a hard thing being an old father.”
This is a fictitious interview. I didn’t actually meet this person. I’m making up a story for them to explore the idea of anonymity, and the lack of narrative in photos taken on the street.
Posted 2 years ago
