It was one of those overcast winter days when the landscape seems colorless. The sky, the trees, the hills all wore the same sheen of a muted, dull gray or a washed-out green. The trees looked black against the sky and as we walked away from the house to the edge of the hill at Kentuck Knob, it was only then that color came back into the world when we looked down the hill at the farmhouse in the distance.
Photographing Outside Apartheid’s White Bubble
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