You're the next contestant on "Guess that Writer!"

"I sat on a park bench and watched a spider weave its web. The silken strands waved gently in the wind, so delicate, so fragile. I imagined what it would look like covered in dew, in the early hours of the morning. I thought I would come back the next day and see.

I suddenly remembered when I was young, my mother would save the cardboard tops off the bakery cake boxes, and the very last amount of the 10-cent bottles of hairspray she bought, and we would go out and capture nature. That's what she would call it. Capture nature. She had always wanted to be a photographer, but since my father died in the war, she had to work as a secretary for a sleazy city lawyer. So we would take our flimsy cardboard box tops and our cheap hairspray and find leaves and dead bugs and place them on the cardboard and spray them so they would stick. And mother would place them somewhere prominent until the next time we got a bakery cake or she ran out of hairspray. And once, I found a fell spider web, and I found it so incredibly beautiful that I immediately sprayed it onto my box top and ran carefully home with it. But my mother was so upset that she threw it away and I was sent to bed without supper. I never found out why it was that I was punished for capturing a spider web.

I watched the people playing and laughing in the park around me. A small boy suddenly ran up to the bench where I sat, where a small rubber ball had rolled. He stared up at me as he clutched his ball, and I gave him such a look of pity and hate, that I suppose he was frightened, and he ran away. He was a poor boy, I knew right away. He had a lean, scavenger-like look about him, as if his mother had too many children for her single-mother income to support. His mother probably washed clothing for a living, and sent her many children to play in the park until nightfall. It sickened me. I hated those tiny poverty-stricken children, with their bright eyes and thievish ways. If no one could afford to take care of these children, then they had no right to exist.

Disgusted, I left my bench, deciding not to come back again."