Click.
Click.
Click.
He hunches over with his camera in hand, turning at obscure angles to try and get the perfect shot of the two cars.
Click.
He stands on his tip toes, his camera far above his head, trying to see form a view that isn’t his own.
Click
He mounts a jack to his own car before attaching his camera and speeding down the winding roads of a mountain.
I’ll edit out the jack later, he thinks to himself while twisting through the turns.
Click.
He smiles at me as I take a picture of him, a wild horse right out of frame, laughing.
“These things are the spawn of satan,” he says to me.
Click.
He waits on the ridge of a mountain, keeping his camera in front of him and his eyes searching.
My shutter speed has to be perfect, he thinks.
There’s a flash of lighting far away, and a smile stretches across his face.
Click.
OVS Journalism Blog 