I can say that I am a child of war. I still remember my first day of school. It was the time of Iraq-Iran war in the middle of the 80s and my school just few kilometers far from the Iranian border. I remember the noise of the airplanes approaching the classroom and all of us children running out of the school. The same happened dozens of times after the first day of school. In Penjwen I have much choice at that time: I could be a shepherd, a smuggler or a farmer. I was a shepherd. I was convinced that the world finished there, in the furthest mountain I could see from my house. Every day I told myself that I wanted to change my life. I made sculptures from the stones of the river and paint them so I could sell them. I started taking pictures with a small camera of children and old people around me. I tried to capture their everyday life, their most simple feelings, their joy and sadness. This is how I developed into an artist. It was almost a complete accident.