A routine develops. In the afternoon we shoot the demonstrations, in the morning, the funerals.
by Michael Kamber
Haiti Slips into Darkness
A heavy mist had rolled in when we reached the roadblock at the tiny mountain-top village of Puilboreau.
by William B. Plowman
A Face in the Crowd
It was my picture, one I had taken 33 years ago.
by Leif Skoogfors
The Real Fake
Somebody had pulled my Kerry picture off my agency's Web site, stuck Fonda at his side, and then used the massive, unedited reach of the Internet to distribute it all over the world.
by Ken Light
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