My toughest shot? It was taken back in 1988, just before the Soviets left Afghanistan. I was at a makeshift hospital outside of Jalalabad, where I photographed a woman with her child. He was burned by napalm and died shortly after. The doctor had told me the child would most likely die, so when I photographed them I already knew he would not survive. I don't think the mother knew. She was a nomad, and her son was wrapped in cloth. She stood right there, holding her child out to me, then cradled him in her arms. I've never been able to forget it. It was like the Pietà.