In the capital of Bangladesh, Dhaka, I captured the most unforgettable photo of my life. When the British pulled out jute, they inadvertently stripped away the genetic foundation of Bangladesh's industrialization. Today, 160 million people are crammed into the delta, sewing for H&M, earning just $0.30 per shirt, barely enough to pay off the bribes demanded by officials. The caste system and a corrupt government continue to enslave the populace. The largest slum in the area is located on a small island, where a ferry ride costing just fifty cents can cross a class divide. Once on the island, enthusiastic children eagerly guided me through the densely packed alleys reminiscent of Kowloon Walled City. Before we set off, I suggested taking a photo of him. He stood on a pile of garbage, beaming with a smile, while behind him, the affluent district's high-rise apartments towered in stark contrast.