A small boy, standing up to his waist in the floodwater, stares at the boats that have pulled up to the burial ground in the village of Bago Daro, in Pakistan's Sindh province. There are dozens of other people clustered on the shore and in the shallows but there is something about him that seems to pull the eye back again and again.
I look at him through a long lens, zooming in on his face. He looks straight back. It is the lack of emotion on his face, I realise, that is drawing me in. The others around him are smiling or grimacing; there is hope in their eyes, or despair.
After five days stranded on this tiny scrap of land amid an apparently end- less sea that appeared overnight, the outside world has finally found them. The two boats have arrived from the city of Shahdadkot to rescue them - or at least, some of them. One hundred or so people have taken refuge on the high ground of the graveyard and the boats can hold no more than 20 each.
The boy will not be among the lucky ones. It is the families with a strong man present who are climbing onto the boats. There is no sign of the boy's family. We're going to leave him behind.
I look away. The boats are nearly full. A mother passes her daughter to a relative then splashes back towards the shore. She stops, turns round, plunges back in, apparently oblivious to the water soaking through her salwar kameez. I brush my fingers through the water; it is unexpectedly warm.
The woman has something in her hand; she is trying to hand it to the girl. It is a piece of pink fabric, maybe a bracelet or a hair tie. She turns away once more for the shore. There is no more room on the boats. The men pull on cords to start the engines and someone pushes the boats into deeper water.