The river keeps a rhythm. We bend to its beat. Each day at sunrise we head out on our adapted photo boat – a bundled row of excited photographers; senses sharpened by the chill crispness and muted palette of a...

One thirty in the morning. Rubbing the eyes. Mind drifting from the task in hand. Must keep watching. Drifting off again. What’s that? A ghost. A white shadow-creature on all fours appears in the gloom just beyond the light. What...