I wake before the sun and wait for the light.

The village lights were still on. Twenty minutes of blue, then the snow went pink and it was over.

A hundred balloons take off in the dark so they are up for first light. The sun clears the ridge and everything turns gold at once.

At eight the path is still empty and the light falls through the gates in stripes. I walked it four mornings in a row for this.

Everyone says never shoot at noon. Santorini is the exception: white walls, blue domes and the sun straight overhead.

Every beach has a game at golden hour. I lay in the sand with a wide lens and waited for the overhead kick. He tried it eleven times.

Fuji hides in cloud most evenings. This one cleared for nine minutes and the sky above it caught fire.

Blue hour in Tokyo lasts about twenty-five minutes. The tower lights come on first and the sky catches up.

Minus eleven, no moon, and the aurora came up over the mountains just before midnight. I stopped feeling my fingers around frame forty.