One terrible truth about photographs is that they can only ever show us what happened, never what is happening or will happen. They are always about something that is gone and so are in league with death.
There is one thing Photographs can do well; they can fix an image in memory, so that it is not forgotten. Tough it is not enough in relation to all discriminations and corruptions, it is something.

I write in the night, but I see not only the tyranny. If that were all I saw, I would probably not have the courage to continue. I see people sleeping, stirring, getting up to drink water, whispering their projects or fears, cooking something while the rest of the family is asleep.
I see pastry cooks in Tehran, and the shepherds, thought of as bandits, sleeping beside their sheep in Sardinia, I see a man in the Friedrichshain quarter of Berlin sitting in his pajamas with a bottle of beer reading Heidegger and he has hands of a proletarian. I see a small boat of illegal immigrants off the Spanish coast near Alicante. I see a mother in Mali, her name is Aya, which means Born on Friday--swaying her baby to sleep, I see the ruins of Kabul and a man going home, and I know that, despite the pain, the ingenuity of the survivors in undiminished, an ingenuity that scavenges and collects energy, and in the ceaseless cunning of this ingenuity, there is a spiritual value, something that I am convinced of it at night, although I don't know why.
Without money each daily human need becomes a pain.
I write in the night. In war, the dark is on nobody's side, in love the dark confirms that we are together.