I flick the flint and flinch at the pop of lighting acetyline. With practiced but still clumsy hands I fiddle with the oxygen flow until the flame is just right. The fire is beautiful, enchanting, a tool of destruction and creation. Creation is wonderful. I create perfection. I can smooth edges, establish perfect symmetry, and line things up for absolute functionality.

All around me in my workshop are photos of the great architectural masterpieces of our time. Le Tour d’Eiffel stands strong and straight. The Golden Gate Bridge spans with majesty and grace. Five homes by Frank Lloyd Wright sit peacefully and solidly. So many examples of man-made perfection adorn these walls.

Turning to move my current project, I wince, pain shooting up my legs to my back. I fall, like so many times before, the project with me, destroyed on impact. Sitting up and looking over my own twisted legs I survey the destruction. I have to think—the perfect and beautiful things of this world are man-made.