One calm afternoon, the shoreline seemed dipped in shades of soft pink, and right in the middle of it stood a flamingo who had clearly mastered the art of doing absolutely nothing. Balanced effortlessly on one leg, he gazed at the water with the quiet confidence of someone who knows he looks fantastic from every angle. A few pale reeds drifted in the foreground, framing him like he’d hired them as props for his portrait. He gave me a slow, knowing glance—as if checking that I got his good side—and then returned to his meditative stillness. I took the hint. And the picture.