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by L. S. Neuberg

Age eight, I knelt at the edge of the photographs my Dad used to take of the team at Championships. Age fifteen, I started shooting photographs with a camera my Grandma bought in New York, America; mostly at the sewage works near the village, which annoyed the workmen I think. Age twenty-three, I started work at a photography store, where I would print pictures for customers, amongst other things, and discovered the very real stink of dark room chemicals. Age forty-five, I started collecting photographs, black and whites mainly; I got a real kick out of that, for a while. Age sixty, I had an MRI at St Joseph's and died shortly afterward. Pull no punches; throw yourself at everything.

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L. S. Neuberg is not a published author. He lives an ordinary sort of life with his life-long companion: a saddle-backed tortoise his great-great-grandfather stole from the Seychelles sometime around 1860, which is on its last legs.