I received a phone call. I am not a detective, by the way, just a nature photographer. I am a simple honest man who loves his work. Here on the west coast where I currently live, I explore the wilderness alone, taking pictures of the beautiful green pasture below the folky white clouds on a warm sunny blue-skied afternoon. I tend not to work on Mondays however, as it helps productively replenish the creative force inside me for a shorter week ahead. Mondays are the worst, even for a wine taster—I believe.

The day, it was Monday, early in the morning I received a call. It is a wedding, what else it could be—I sighed. Carrying my tired shoulders, I packed my gear: camera equipment, an umbrella, and some snacks. I drove in my 1980 Ford to the location, parked my car and roofed my eyes. I saw a farm, cows mindlessly grazing, mooing, and roaming inside a loose fence. The heat was swelteringly high, enough to melt a west-pacific mountain. After a brief promise to the soon-to-be couple, I went to my business. I photographed. The groom, short built, was helplessly running miles sweat oozing down his cheekbones. Must be the heat or maybe he was dwelling in the future. The bride, largely built, fair, shiny dress—not as shiny as her future, I thought—was looking for an auspicious herald, the start of her new life. Thinking out so loud, I took relatively few casual photos on the day, which was uncharacteristic for my normal routine; they had few people around. The Johnson's, in contrast, had a large family; I wonder why they married at the weekend, not on Friday, they could have rather gone for a honeymoon at the weekend—I recalled in disagreement. It was just about to dark. I set for the couple-photo.

In the midst of people mindlessly drinking shouting in the ambiance, I noticed my gear was about to die. Remember how I do not work on Mondays--I laughed at myself. Knowing I could not stand there even a second waiting to power up, I took the risk. Nervously trying to take a perfect capture at one-shot—"I will take the most beautiful photo of you two as promised", I confirmed to the couple with a nervous smile. I asked the groom to look at his bride. The bride seems to maintain a distance—but whatever, I don't care it's not my business, I reiterated myself. I scanned the surroundings and nodded, okay it's time. The bride was seriously rethinking—shut the fuck up, I cursed myself while taking the shot.

Boom: "got it", I said, offering them to have a look. The equipment died a moment later. In the photo was an ox fucking a cow in the background. I could not contain my laugh. I am afraid this will be the last photo for today—I declared.