” The wind whistles within me. I am naked. Master of nothing, master of no one, not even master of my own convictions, I am my face in the wind against the wind, and I am the wind that strikes my face.” — Eduardo Galeano
Ursulatan, El Salvador. 1990. After more than 12 years of Civil war, a combatant rests after an evening patrol. 
La Barca, El Salvador. 1989. A grandfather holds his infant grandson. 
During the war in El Salvador many of the younger men and women left their traditional homes to join the conflict as combatants. This meant children were raised by extended families. 
Boy by a river. El Salvador. 1990. 
Growing up during war, children faced many challenges. 
After school a group of young girls line up for their teacher near Santa Marta, Cabanas, El Salvador. 
A boy sells the daily newspaper along the street at a bus station. 
A boy sells juice on the side of the road through a bus window. 
In the late 1980s, after many years of living at the United Nations refugee camp in Honduras, thousands of Salvadorans began to return home. 
A teenage boy, poses for a picture while at work in the countryside. 
In the late 1980s, I visited the Mesa Grande Refugee camp for Salvadorans fleeing the civil war in their homeland. There, I witnessed a people determined to survive years of conflict. I was drawn to the strength and resolve of thousands. 
A father and son wait to travel to the countryside for work. 
An old man greets strangers with welcoming eyes. 
A young boy stands inside his family’s roadside store. 
A teenage rebel heads out on patrol near Santa Marta, Cabanas, El Salvador. 1989. 
San Salvador, 1993. 
With a dusting of snow on the foothills of the Cascades in Southern Oregon a flock of Canada geese descend to the shores of Emmigrant Lake near Ashland, Oregon. 
A child holds a bundle of wood the family burns to make coal. 