I came back to Kabul in November 1996, and I went to visit my friend who is the owner of the body building club along the Kabul river.
He had been forced to remove the colourful panel hanging out on the first floor. To my surprise, I found there the same guy that I had photographed more than one year before.
This was something I couldn't resist. I had to take that same picture, once more. The "click" of my camera sounded like a rifle shot bouncing between the spoiled walls of a desert club which didn't exist any longer.
There are many ways a town can die.
--A. Raffaele Ciriello
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