I find a moment. My finger searches for the shutter release. My stomach flutters. My breath softens, I try not to shake. Something is happening that will never happen again. Ever. I need to get it. I need to get an image.
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Here’s a precious image I found along the way to something else. It is remarkable how often I find an image waiting for me, as if precisely composed to order. Sometimes the image just sits there, patient and waiting. Other times it is fleeting and I must rely upon a twitchy, trigger finger in order to capture it. Capture is a funny word that photographers use—as if we were walking around with butterfly nets.