In my hands
A photo with quality so great our ancestors couldn't believe. Details so fine the human eye can't see. A few clicks beam it to a small box, powered by wires, hung for miles, high above our roads. A pixel perfect printed picture pours out.
150 years ago, a complex contraption sits exposed for 30 minutes to capture unchanging scenes. A held posture preserved permanently on a silver-coated platter. One long shot blurred by a single moving figure.
Before we cry of today's horrors, let us be grateful for the many marvels. Inventions of great minds, from vast wealth, built by poor hands.
No sideloaded apps nor screenshots of books or medical records. No ink not stamped with their seal of approval.
You made me a tool, said look it's so cool, but you played me a fool, and took it away from me.
In my hands, but not your plans, so you took it away from me.
All to feed your petty greed.