
This kind of tourist-wildlife relationship isn't good for anyone. The monkeys learn to attack the tourists, and then they end up living off of sugary soda and potato chips. Next thing you know, they'll be insulting us and trying to rent us kayaks.
At our best and most fortunate we make pictures because of what stands before our camera, to honor what is greater and more interesting than we are. We never accomplish this perfectly, though in return we are given something perfect--a sense of inclusion. Our subject thus redefines us, and is part of the biography by which we want to be known.
If I were there, I would put hot pepper juice all over my chips and let the little rascals take it. That'll teach em!
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