I was seven. I really wanted to take a picture of my tabby cat with my dad's twin lens reflex camera.
It looked so cool looking down into this box and seeing the square world moving backwards. I took the picture. Dad wasn't pleased. The film was expensive and the shot was off.
What was it in my childhood that made me not want to do it the way it's done? I want to see the flower's stem. I want the office executive outside in the parking lot. I don't want to use a recipe and measuring spoons.
Maybe it was Mr. Roznowski's physics lab, maybe it was that summer job in the law firm, or the next summer job on the psych ward; maybe it was my dad's old camera. Maybe it's just me.