Pale, Serbia, 1993:
It was so cold that ice was actually dripping from my nose. The camera felt like a dead weight, numbing my shoulder. Inside the building I could see people enjoying hot tea. It had been eight hours since my last warm moment, eight hours out here in the stinging cold and I was getting desperate. Finally the man I was waiting for stepped outside. "Sir, can we ask you a question for American News?" filled with relief I aimed the camera at his face, ready to roll. "Fuck off", he replied as his security man roughly shoved me aside.
Split, Croatia, 1994:
The military Hercules was waiting at the far end of the runway. I could barely see it, the heat waves from the scorching asphalt were blurring my sight, making the plane look like a mere mirage. Nobody to give me a lift, I would have to walk. Rucksack on my back, camera case and tripod on right shoulder, camera on the left. Estimation: 60-70 kilos. Distance: one kilometer. Temperature: 38 Celsius. Duration: For Ever.

Suffering, frustration and despair, these are just some of the things cameramen go through on a daily basis. The above are only two examples of en endless stream of miserable memories I have connected to my noble profession. Getting that one picture, that one quote often means going through hell. Yet despite all this, the amazing thing is that cameramen continue doing what they are doing. And even more amazing: that many more aspire to join our ranks.