Just about a few months ago I went on the most photogenic trip of my life. Yazd had me mesmerized in all sorts of ways. From the crumbling doors and mud-brick buildings to the food and the city’s remarkable architecture.
Wandering in Yazd you’d quickly realize that here instead of skyscrapers it’s the wind catchers (Badgir) and minarets that reach for the sky.
Authenticity and heritage dissipate in the old district, one that quickly disappears as soon as you find your way to the banal modern main streets.
Yazd boasts Iranian culture in every corner. Even the doorknobs of the decayed wooden doors have a story to tell. One with a thicker noise for the men and another with a much delicate sound for the women to knock. Letting the host to acknowledge who’s behind the door and perhaps for the women to cover up if they’re to encounter the men. This just shows how modest and private the culture of this part of Iran is. One that Yazd seems to be holding on tightly while everywhere else is quickly letting go.
Then there were the people. The men who were more than eager to pose for my camera and the women passing by who giggled when they noticed they’ve just become the subject of my next shot.
Yazd is a photographers dream. One that you’ll get to cheat in with just fitting sublimity in a frame and pressing that camera button one too many times.