After sleeping for around twelve hours, I woke just in time to catch the sunrise.
I can’t choose between some of these photographs: each one of the boatmen or the birds captures a different aspect of their motion, of their being.
To delete them simply because they are similar, in favour of trying to define the one ‘best’ shot, seems a cruel reduction of their beauty and complexity.
I might, when I ever get around to putting them into albums or framing some for the walls at home, print them as a series: a row of images across a page from left to right. This will capture them both frozen in time by my camera as details to be pondered, and alive and moving across the page or canvas.