A rainy day in Osaka.

The tourists were few in number. The busloads were nowhere to be found. On this April afternoon, it was relatively peaceful. But there was a reason why no one was around. Dark clouds, bulging with rain loomed overhead. After this shot, it began pouring. We ran and took refuge in the castle.

On the fourth day, we finally tracked down the herd.

4AM wake ups. Two hour drives to get to the empty wilderness where we thought the herds would be. Because of the heat of the Nevada summer, we knew we wouldn’t see them in the day, but perhaps if we played our cards right, we would find a herd in the early morning. As the sun rose, this herd ran hard alongside our truck. I spun in my chair, hoping to heaven that I had the right settings, and fired frantically.

A lone stallion.

In the bone-dry valley of Roberts Mountains of Nevada, herds of wild horses travel. All except for this one stallion. Driven from his herd, he wanders the cheat-grass laden lands on his own. Perhaps he seeks a new home, a mate to start his own herd. Perhaps he enjoys the freedom. All I know is that we watched each other, and he dared me to challenge him. I politely declined.