On the weekend I shot some ducks (legally with a registered firearm) and had a long conversation with two men, one my age, one six years old, about the ethics of killing and the complex feelings killing brings up in many people.
Tonight, I am having duck with blood orange sauce, field mushrooms I foraged on the way back from the duck swamp stuffed with home grown herbs and fennel, cheese made by a neighbour, baby zucchini from the garden, and a nice glass of 2004 red that just happened to be in the cellar.
I find Leicas stirring, as I do many nicely made exquisitely designed machines. I have seen terrible, depressingly ordinarily bad, surprising, decent and wondrously amazing things. They all influence me. I particularly dislike being told what makes me how I am and how it influences me when the author is generalising and knows nothing about me specifically or what it means.