Mornings start before the light. Rodrigo reads the conditions over coffee, and we head out — to an
estancia, a frozen lagoon, the edge of the steppe — while the sun is still low enough to do the
work. Winter days here are short, and that’s the point: the good light lasts for hours, not minutes.
You photograph until the cold tells you it’s time. Then you come back.
Back at Bories, there’s heat, a real meal, and the fire lit. If you want to keep working, the day’s
frames go up on the screen and the two of us go through them with you — what worked, what didn’t,
what to chase tomorrow. If you’d rather not, there’s a glass of wine and a chair by the fire with
your name on it. No tents, no freezing nights, no roughing it for its own sake. The wild stays
outside. You don’t have to.