Sophie Ibbotson:
I’m sat in the Aga Khan’s Hotel Serena in Khorog, looking out of the window across an immaculately kept lawn towards a small suspension bridge that leads to Afghanistan. The fluttering flags either side of the river identify their respective sovereignties and one or two guards lounge in the sunlight. No one is crossing today, and there is little else to do.
I’m sat in the Aga Khan’s Hotel Serena in Khorog, looking out of the window across an immaculately kept lawn towards a small suspension bridge that leads to Afghanistan. The fluttering flags either side of the river identify their respective sovereignties and one or two guards lounge in the sunlight. No one is crossing today, and there is little else to do.
