STORY

This frog wasn’t moving. It had chosen a perfect arc of branch, one that seemed designed to showcase its patterns, and sat, still as stone. There was a kind of majesty in the pose. The pale eyes wide, the orange limbs draped like a dancer mid-pose, and the flank striped with jungle code. I took this in the lowlands of Ecuador after dusk, when the forest darkens to a velvet black and the spotlight falls only where you cast it. The deep shadows and silence gave it theatre. I didn’t need the frog to move; it already owned the frame. There’s strength in stillness. And this moment - quiet, composed, exact - was the rainforest holding its breath.