When I was twelve, I borrowed my neighbor’s VHS camcorder. The camera was almost as big as I was, but I still managed to take it outside and capture some scenes from around my neighborhood. I recorded the fire hydrant. Trees. People on bikes. Amazing stuff. Then, the camera stopped working, and my heart sank. When I opened it up, I saw that the cassette was jammed. I sat down, and in the process of pulling the cassette out, the tape snapped. Undaunted, I located some invisible tape and repaired the break. It somehow did the trick, and I got to watch my footage. It was just a small moment, but it felt like a beginning.