Lennon snapped photos of the same suburban park for 20 minutes, critiquing the contrast and sharpness of his shots. The novelty faded quickly. His excitement was tied to what the gadget could do rather than what it was doing for him. The gift was impressive but left little room for heart. It was a tool for a life observing the world, not creating one. Later, over a picnic, Lacy and Lennon compared notes. Lacy showed off her watercolors, and Lennon begrudgingly tried his hand at sketching a tree. “Why do you get so much out of this?” he asked. She grinned. “Because it’s not about the gift—it’s about what happens when I use it. Painting feels like… magic. You’re just flying the same old park.”