Photographers look for emotions. Anger or pain or joy or shame, desire or rage. Eyes that stare, fear, defy. Hand signs, body postures or gestures. Afghan women don’t do those in public. It’s a challenge to catch feelings under their long, roomy burqas. They move like shadows or ghosts, their blue veils flying through the streets, so visible yet unseen. I photographed dozens of them. More so: their feelings, the ones they concede and some that they conceal. When they beg for a coin, sit for a rest, wait for a bread, pray for the dead, speak with a hand or use it to hide what they already cover. That is, themselves, their identity, their soul as women, as humans.