
At the beginning of August 2014, barely anyone had heard of the city of Sinjar: then ISIS arrived, and the world became all too familiar with the city and the tragedy which unfolded there.

Eighteen months later, photographer Cengiz Yar became one of the first civilians to arrive in the devastated city after ISIS were chased from the area by Kurdish forces.

What he discovered was a city where many still fear to tread, terrified of buildings rumoured to be laced with booby traps, pockmarked by bullet holes and surrounded by mass graves.

His pictures - taken over the course of two visits, once in November when Sinjar was liberated, and again a month later - capture the utter desolation of what remains.

Here, in his own words, he describes what it is like to enter a city changed forever by ISIS' evil.

Travelling to Sinjar is time-consuming and exhausting.

Along the drive through the mountain where the Yazidis were trapped in the summer of 2014 are a number of small communities and makeshift encampments. Mud huts, tents, and the occasional caravan set against an imposing mountain backdrop.

The plateau at the top of the mountain holds one of the largest communities of displaced Yazidis. Tents stretch out in all directions.

Despite the majority here being physically only a few kilometres from their homes, life atop Sinjar Mountain is harsh. Few services or aid groups reach the people here due to the remote location and factional strain between the political parties vying for control.

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Cruelty: ISIS held Sinjar from August 2014 until it was liberated in November, murdering and raping its citizens, and destroying the city. After it was freed, photographer Cengiz Yar followed the soldiers in, capturing this Kurdish fighter looking out over the destruction

War torn: Yar compared what he saw in Sinjar to the German town of Dresden after it was fire bombed in the Second World War

Free at last: But there were other horrifying reminders of what happened here. ISIS rule by fear, and empty bullet casings, broken bones and a rag, thought to have been used as a blindfold during an execution, are strewn around the ground in Sinjar

Strategic: The recapture of Sinjar, which lies on the 75 mile long Highway 47, cut the link between the terror group's strongholds of Mosul, Iraq, and Raqqa in Syria, but the fighting continues to the south - and the former residents fear to return too quickly

The road that descends from the mountain into Sinjar City is a long series of switchbacks, punctuated by burnt-out and destroyed vehicles. Scattered remains of clothing abandoned during the civilians' escape from the city last year still litter the side of the road.

After around 45 minutes of zig-zagging descent, the steep slope gives way to a gradual roll as the the road finally reaches the entrance to what remains of Sinjar City.

Upon entering, it is immediately apparent how much fighting has taken place here over the past year and a half.

Against the foothills of Sinjar Mountain in the eastern-most districts of the city, the evidence of large-scale construction projects has been reduced to a mixture of steel rebar, broken concrete, and dust. It's reminiscent of images of Dresden in the Second World War, after the allied aerial bombardment appeared to have flattened whole portions of the cityscape.

Massive expanses of what were once entire city blocks lay in uneven, crumbled piles of grey concrete. What buildings left standing or partially intact are pocketed with bullet holes and caked with soot. Burned trucks and cars flank the rubble-strewn streets, only recently moved from where they had served as road blocks before the city's recapture.

Mixed emotions: Soldiers - a mixture of the Peshmerga, YPG and Yazidi militia, backed by U.S. air strikes - celebrated the victory joyously

Job done: Every few blocks, groups of armed men occupy in courtyards, aware a 'lone wolf' fighter could be hiding in any building

Armed and dangerous: An armoured pick up truck patrols Sinjar city, as a masked Kurdish fighter stands behind a heavy machine gun

Battlefield: ISIS does not give up easily, and towns liberated before Sinjar were littered with booby traps. It has left people fearful of what they may find in the ruins - and meant Yar was constantly on the alert

Destroyed: All over the city, and the mountainous region, there are relics of the normal lives people lived before ISIS took over the city

Destruction: One out of every four houses or buildings in Sinjar has been destroyed as a result of US-led airstrikes that helped the Kurds take back the city

Tactics: Burned vehicles which were once used as road blocks are now consigned to the side of the road, rusting slowly

Electrical and phone wiring hangs in tangled bundles from broken light poles and between the remains of what were once homes.

Every step brings danger: ISIS does not give up easily, and those towns liberated before Sinjar have been littered with booby traps, waiting to kill those who dare challenge their twisted mindset.

In the distance, the sound of a single gun shot - possibly a 'lone wolf' fighter, left behind to kill as many of the city's liberators before he is finally captured, or killed.

It is unsurprising that those returning tentatively to the abandoned city do so in a slow trickle rather than a rush.

The fighting continues nearby and it is unclear who will be victorious. Reminders of what will happen should the extremists take hold once more can be found everywhere.

Kurdish forces, who continue to battle ISIS on the city's southern fronts, have uncovered mass graves believed to hold hundreds of Yazidis slaughtered by ISIS in August 2014.

Treacherous: Three of the mass graves were found a day after the first, which was rigged with explosives. In the old graveyards, people mourn the recently deceased (pictured). They will have to wait to rebury those who were massacred, until after the UN have investigated

Back home: A family butchers a goat as a sacrifice to Sheikh Shebel Qassem, a holy figure in the Yazidi religion, near the graves of their family members

Back home: Yar watched as, for the first time since August 2014, when ISIS took over, civilians were able to enter Sinjar for the first time. Pictured are children who stayed in Sinjar when ISIS attacked. They are standing in front of their house atop Sinjar Mountain.

In vast fields between two previously active frontline embankments on the eastern side of Sinjar are low mounds of brown dirt, spaced about 50 metres apart. Scattered around the mounds are scraps of clothing, bullet casings, and human bone fragments. Over time, some clothing and bones has washed out of these makeshift graves and into a stream bed that lays near the mounds.

Local officials said they are waiting on the UN investigations team to do forensic work on the graves before they begin excavating them. However, the locals don't expect the forensics teams to start work soon, due to the graves' proximity to the fighting.

That proximity was crystal clear as a massive coalition airstrike hit in ISIS held territory within eyesight as the local official was explaining the forensic needs. He estimated the distance of the airstrike to be a few kilometres away. The ground shook, and a plume of smoke billowed into the air.

During my second trip to Sinjar, three separate airstrikes hit ISIS-held locations in the distance, each blast tearing and reverberating through the eerie silence that otherwise eclipses the desolate city.

Tradition: Yazidi men light a small fire in some sort of religious ritual inside a shrine on the north side of Sinjar Mountain

Sanctuary: A man lights candles in the Yazidi holy village of Lalish, Iraq, where Yazidi people fled to after Sinjar was attacked

Remains: Scattered clothing lies scattered on the side of the road which was one of the only escape routes during ISIS's assault on Sinjar

Belief: A Yazidi shrine to Sheikh Shebel Qassem atop Sinjar Mountain. ISIS justified the genocide of the Yazidi by saying their ancient beliefs, a combination of Islam, Christianity, and Zoroastrianism, made them infidels

Scenic: The Yazidi caretaker of Sheikh Shebel Qassem's shrine stands on top of Sinjar Mountain, flanked by its dusty landscape

Fighting for complete control over the area is far from finished, as I saw first-hand while trying to visit a suspected mass grave on the western side of the city. As the local official ushering me around the areas got out of his car, gunfire erupted from a frontline a short distance away, forcing us to leave the area and head back into the city center.

As we sat in a Peshmerga command base, the official explained that they believe the grave we were unable to see contained the bodies of older women killed by ISIS. 'They killed the old ladies because they could not use them for sex slaves.'

Driving around the city it is hard to imagine anyone living in Sinjar again. It sits in almost total ruin, and to make the city safe for habitation again would require a massive exploration effort to ensure no mines or unexploded ordnance remains.