In 1993, photographer Rod Morris captured an image in Luxor, Egypt, that won a competition, earning him money, a camera, and a return ticket to anywhere in the world. He chose Chile and later sold the high-tech camera he received to a taxi driver, preferring to work with light 35mm models. After three months in Chile, Morris traveled to the Bolivian Altiplano plateau. A severe headache, relieved only by coca tea, marked the journey. He had an open-ended assignment with the Financial Times to photograph financial districts across South America, but he also explored streets and everyday scenes. The image that would later define part of his career was taken in La Paz during the tense election campaign of Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada. Morris recalls the atmosphere as apprehensive. Soldiers and police patrolled the streets while citizens queued with papers, possibly to register land claims before government deadlines. “I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening when I took the picture, only that it was important to these people and tense,” he said. The act of photographing was immediately noticed. One person looked directly at Morris, reflecting the common bemusement people show when photographed without ceremony. Soon, plainclothes police approached him, placing him in the back of a car and taking him to a local station. They questioned him at length and tried to confiscate his film, but Morris managed to protect the unexposed rolls. On leaving the station, police lined up and struck him repeatedly before warning that he would be followed. He chose not to linger in the city after the incident. Morris says ambiguity is central to the image. The photograph now forms part of his series Still Films, which blends photojournalism with cinematic storytelling. He gravitates toward black-and-white images and scenes that appear staged, creating narratives that extend beyond the frame. The La Paz photograph stood out immediately on his contact sheet for its cinematic tension. Figures form a chain toward an open doorway guarded by a soldier, yet the scene remains open to interpretation. “I want my photographs to be imbued with the excitement and wonder I felt when I pressed the shutter,” Morris explained. He avoids imposing outsider judgment, capturing scenes as they appear. The story behind the photograph, he believes, is secondary to the questions it evokes for viewers. His work focuses on storytelling through sequences, not isolated images, emphasizing thoughtfulness over quantity. Morris credits his early recognition to winning the Time Out/STA Travel Photographer of the Year award. Using the prize money, he spent three months in Chile on environmental photography projects before traveling through Peru and Bolivia. These experiences shaped his approach to photography, blending documentary observation with cinematic narrative techniques. He advises photographers to adopt a film mindset: take fewer images, think deeply about composition, and approach projects as series rather than isolated shots. “Photography is a way of collecting and communicating stories,” Morris said. The photograph remains one of his most memorable, not only for its aesthetic value but for the intense, personal experience it created. It serves as a reminder of the risks photographers sometimes face in pursuit of meaningful images and the power of visual storytelling to raise questions rather than offer answers.