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  • I'd been talking about liking to take street photos, in particular of people, and also discussing the fledgling art installation I'd done around my woodland pictures in February.

    "Well, photography runs in the family you know." Said one of my aunts.

    "Oh yes!" Said the other aunt. "There's some good photographers back in the family tree."

    And out came the documentary proof in the form of my grandmothers birth certificate listing my great-grandfather's occupation, along with tales of somewhere in the attic being some of his photographs, old sepia pictures of people posed in a studio, with buttoned down collars and formal faces.

    "So, you see, photography runs in the family." said the second aunt.

    "Yes" said the first aunt, in my direction.

    "Oh yes." said the second aunt, in my direction. This one added a nod for emphasis.

    I smiled feeling awkward, wishing I was actually interested in the technical side of photography instead of just snapping on automatic for a hobby, and suddenly felt tremendous shame that I wasn't living up to some family legacy that I hadn't known about until ten minutes before.

    I hadn't even brought my, usually ever present, camera out with me today.

    "Mmmmm.. Can I take a photo of the certificate?" I asked, pulling out my iPhone.
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