I didn't just think about photography, I thought of myself as a photographer. Photography was literally identical to my identity. I dreamed about pictures. I read about photography and photographers. And I shot every day and I went to bed (to dream about photography) with a camera beside my bed.
One snowy night walking home from my job at a camera store, I remember stopping and looking up at the dizzy blizzard ringing a street lamp and making a wish. I wish I could someday make a living taking pictures. I gripped the little 1935 Leica rangefinder camera in my overcoat pocket and squeezed it for luck.
My wish came true.
I should have been more careful in how I phrased my wish. I should have wished to be able to make a GOOD living taking pictures.