In the heart of the jungle, high on a perch, it stared back.
I had chased it for nearly forty minutes — through heat, thirst, and shifting ground — camera heavy in my hands, breath light in my chest. Each time I approached, it slipped away.
Now, it no longer moved.
Daylight, harsh and unwelcome for a nocturnal soul, poured over its feathers. Fear may have lingered. Confusion, perhaps. But its gaze was steady — unflinching, even in discomfort.
It seemed to say:
Even when the light blinds you, the heat drains you, and the ground shifts beneath you — feed your focus.
Rely on the wings you were born with.
Stand tall in the space you have.
Your core strength will carry you, no matter the environment.