During a trip to Juba, South Sudan to cover the referendum for independence, photojournalist Robin Hammond came across a story he had never seen adequately depicted, when he saw, as he tells FotoEvidence, a mentally ill girl begging at the side of the road.
There is something about her eyes. Big, round saucers brimming with innocence that can see right through you. A dark scar runs down her cheek, a permanent tear for a girl who has a lot to cry about but instead smiles.
We cheerfully allow domineering corporations, which are not in fact living human beings, the kind of bailout that outrages us when we reward flesh-and-blood tyrants with the same privilege -- impunity for the damages they cause to others.
I've known how to write my name since I was four years old, so as I watched Cedeh sit down with paper and a prized ink pen and slowly work through the letters of her name I had a sense of peering into someone's shame.
I was born in the beautiful city of Monrovia, Liberia. In my earliest memories as a child, the city was very peaceful. But then war broke out, and we eventually lost everything we had: peace, happiness, family members, communication, and our home.
"I envision a Liberia where the young people have a fighting chance, like every other young person in a developed country. A chance to dream big and a chance to achieve their dreams, however insurmountable they may seem."
More Than Me, an education and girls' empowerment non-profit, is gaining notoriety through its guerilla-style marketing, inspiring hundreds of people to write "I am Abigail" on their foreheads and posting the photos on Facebook.
The Liberian constitution makes it mandatory for citizens of Liberia to be black of African descent. I am one of many white children born in Liberia to non-African parents and denied nationality and citizenship rights due to the color of my skin and my roots.
Driving north for an hour from the city of Liberia in Costa Rica, past skinny cows in postcard-green meadows, one wonders if civilization is ever going to reemerge, and then the taxi driver slams on his brakes.
Last month, during an eight-day study tour of Liberia, I discovered that shop names, posters, advertisements, and graffiti told the story of the place and its problems more graphically than any article or guidebook.