I don't believe the stories others tell, as if they didn't know what was happening. Even as a school boy, I knew exactly what she was doing. I have never felt shame for my inadvertent voyeurism – we were not a religious family. I knew intuitively, however, I had witnessed a highly personal and innately human moment. She didn't see me.
My own tastes and proclivities were influenced markedly. The mere sight of a fully clothed woman with a pained expression can inspire elaborate, distracting dreams.