On Kinney Road,  a few years ago, the lucky man took out his new camera, and cursed himself for buying something new and expensive, that he could never figure out how to use, and  Izzy hopped out of the car and lay down by the side of the road, and it was so cold the man could not get his fingers on the button, or quite figure out where he was and he fiddled and pushed until he heard a click, and then looked in the screen display and saw the power of the sky above him, and he knew that light and feeling would never mean the same thing, and that he was seeing the world anew. And he opened his eyes in surprise and raised the camera again.

“Izzy,” he yelled across the road, dodging a truck roaring down the hill in the dark, “we can do this.”