I remember looking at a photo on a chest of drawers at a friends house, I must have been about seven years old, and thinking 'wow, I would love to take photographs like that'. I sort of always assumed that I just couldn't. Sometimes when I used to see a beautiful moment, like a sunset or an orchard late summers low-light hours I would feel this pang, a sort of regret that the moment would soon pass. I would love to be able to paint but I just can't so all in all it should have been obvious to get into photography.