Photojournalism

Nothing remains in this desolate no man’s land except the stark battered concrete shells of unfinished mansions and deserted churches eroded by time. Surrounded by dense cloud, isolated from humanity, and hundreds of miles from the nearest convenience store these vestiges stand proud over-watching Bokor national park and its hidden inhabitants.

A simple concrete road network navigates adventurers from shell to shell, passing vast swathes of rain forest cut back for the future development of three hotels, a reservoir turned boating lake, and an Italian-style complex offering upmarket apartments to the wealthy. Kilometre after kilometre I pass nothing but devastation and destruction on an epic scale, photographically priceless but leaving me sick to the stomach. It’s the first time I’ve crossed the mental barrier from photographer to concerned civilian, and in all honesty it makes me feel a bit vulnerable, but there’s no going back.

After an afternoon of patchy weather and wet cameras, an empty gas tank leaves me free-wheeling back down the treacherous 30km mountain pass ‘taking the line’ all the way with little regard for the oncoming traffic. To brake now is to walk home.

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    A Darker Side
    Photojournalism
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    A Very Happy Valley
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    Auntie R
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    The Hutongs Are Dead
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    Taskhorgan Horse Fair
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    The Abattoir
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