These Iraqis in Basra on the eve of the US-initiated war were amused and welcoming when an American--a woman no less--invaded their guy-space cafe. Perhaps because their government did not reflect their own hopes and needs, they could see me as independent from my government, which was about to unleash hell on them. I suspect that most of these men were out of work and passing long days in their neighborhood hang-out.
The guys gathered in Chinatown's Confucius Park park, on the other hand, were probably retired and, I imagine, got together regularly to chew the fat and, like the Iraqis, play out longstanding friendships and amiable rivalries around the table.
It's a funny thing about much street photography—you are left to guess at the import of many of the scenes you capture, to draw information from body language and facial expression, and to write stories in your head.
Oh Iraq, not Iran! That makes sense!
It’s interesting to me that not one of the Chinese men is making eye contact, whereas 3 out the 5 Iranians are.