There was a camera in the house I grew up in, but getting my hands on it was the rarest of
occurrences-if I was deemed less important than the subjects to be photographed, and if
they all needed to be in the photo at once, then I could wrap my stubby little fingers
around the heavy, black plastic that surrounded whatever magic eye lay inside.
Photographs were an extra-ordinary thing, not as rare that they still photographed deceased people just to have a
souvenir, but expensive enough that you only took pictures of trips & family reunions.
It, of course, all changed with digital photography: a lightweight, silver sliver of plastic, that I could snap away with almost indefenitely, sans the trip to photo
shop. I discovered the selfie as a teenager, the power of recording drunken party mementos as
a young adult, and the rest of the entire, vast, beautiful world after that.
Nowadays I pursue my love affair with birds and fungi through my ever trusty Canon magic eye.
