I first discovered photography as personal assistant to the special envoy from the planet Alpha Centauri, who suggested I take up a hobby besides Tetris, as the constant repetition of the same 8-bit Russian folksong for upwards of eighteen hours a day was beginning to grate on hir already frayed nerves.

It was at that time that I moved to Tibet (or it might have been Snowdonia) for three years, where I learned to assume the form of a large spider who spoke only in iambic pentameter, and there taught myself to knit intricate webs that held within them secret messages to be read only by those who had found enlightenment, and later also personal-sized mug cozies.

After an incident at the Latvian consulate (which, due to a superinjunction, the details of which I am not permitted to discuss publicly) I moved back in with my parents in their cottage in the candy mountains and accidentally dreamed an entire galaxy into existence.

I named it Irving Rosenberg.