by K.G. Deloas
“Thousand-one, thousand-two, …” An embedded photojournalist assigned to Afghanistan’s Korengal Valley counts up incessantly. The shura had gone well, but the evening turned out hell. Snap the red filter on and it wipes all blue from the picture, leaving you with nothing. “At least the numbers provide some comfort,” he thinks, “Watch the bright prophet float against the darkness of space!"