Shifting Sands, Mountains and Mosaics in the Islamic Republic of Iran






Drawing my scarf up over my mouth I attempt to find a
happy medium between desperately trying to gasp enough air to breathe and
trying not to breathe too much. I look up from the dusty trail to see plumes of
yellow smoke being belched into the atmosphere by a giant yellow vent, and, a
few hundred metres further, a small plaque below the dry remains of what
appears to be a dead sheep… The
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