During my trip to Ischashem we stopped off in a village on our way back to Faisabad. I'd climbed out of the car to photograph a cows head I spotted just sitting there propped up against a ladder and had caught a glimpse of some rather fine furry creatures hanging from the wall inside a small shop. I went inside, as always creating quite a stir simply by being there (there is no way to be inconspicuous as a foreigner). Everything about me was a curiousity to them particularly as I looked up at the hanging furs and asked if I could look more closely at one of them. The old man in the shop was very happy to oblige and his sons or young helpers look on in from the doorway giggling and self conscious at my presence.
I am face to face with a creature, white furred and longer than me as i hold him up, just his skin, his dangling legs and poor sorrowful head. I hug him and I want to take him home with me. I am sad that he is just a sad skin, all dangly. We have a little chat in the doorway, he and I, a little dance with a left over mountain lion, I hold him up for a photograph " Me and my new pal", and then out of curiousity I ask how much he costs, "$100 dollars", the shop keeper tells me. I'm horrified at the thought of promoting such a trade. I'd like to rescue him and take him away from here but I cannot and I hand him back and he is re-hung next to his furry comrades.