I think there was a book out of these images, studio photographs from afghanistan, some time ago. Slate has put up a gallery of them.
It's a quarter to three and it already looks like dusk. Commuting has become hell, it's pitch black when I leave the house and black when I leave work and in between there greasy west London near-light. I’m now officially on midwinter time, that is I can't wake up, I can scarcely pull my body from the warm house, I need constant stodgy food and endless tea. There's now about three productive hours in the day which no amount of coffee can prolong. Christmas holidays can't come soon enough.
"when can i go into the supermarket and buy what i want with my good looks?"
the poetry archive has put audio recordings online, theres some fabulously old stuff like yates and browning (which is almost inaudible) and both sounds very much like how reading poetry was supposed to sound.
best of all though are recordings of ginsberg (a personal fav of mine) reading 'america' and langston hughes reading 'I too'.