Crouched down, with my shoes in the mud, I hold the camera up to my eye and squint through the little square opening to see my subject. I adjust the focus and the aperture trying to find the best setting to take the picture. Then, all of a sudden, the sun passes behind the clouds. With my finger just hovering over the button, I pause and wait. On the other side of my lens, the small white flower with its delicate petals peeking out of the dead leaves and dirt remains there, untouched and unaware of my presence, and unaware of how long I wait until I can capture its photograph. Time ticks by and eventually the sun comes back out, and I can take the photo. Once I do, I look down at the camera and look through the dozens of photos I have already taken of the same flower. I find that only two or three out of the dozens of photos I had taken turned out the way I had hoped. 

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