When the monkey escaped his cave of unconsciousness, what a glorious day it was, indeed. The flowers bloomed just in time for him to smell, oh and the trees had perfect form for him to climb, and such juicy mangoes hung so high in the trees which he could easily climb. All could said to be perfect.
The monkey started a secret pile of mangoes in a cave near the bottom of his tree. Climbing up and back down the tree all day, bringing down one mango at a time as not to bruise them, the monkey placed them neatly in a pile.
Up and down, to a fro, once and again, the monkey ignored all of his other matters, oscillating in and out of the tree with all the vigor of his youth to procure an enormous pile.
Only a few hours later, the monkey found himself terribly exhausted and hungry sitting next to a huge pile of mangoes. So he began to consume them. He ate mangoes from his pile as the day became night, and still he continued to eat until he grew very ill and fell into a deep sleep. Majesticly carnal dreams, had this monkey, as his digestive system toiled to process the epic volume of mango it was confronted with.
The next day around noon when he awoke from his slumber, the monkey found his hair drenched in the sticky juice of mango, so he cut it off. He peered at his reflection in the watering hole and found it was oozing with puss, and his body was covered in blubber. On squatting down to let out his number two, nothing but fermented mangoe juice flowed out of him. What a foul stench!
The monkey splashed his face with water and decided to never eat mangoes again.
Though he still had such a heaping pile of mangoes which nobody had taken from him in the night. What to do with all the fruit of his labours?
The monkey loaded all of his mangoes into one bulging sack, then balancing it on his back in a spirited struggle, he hauled them all the way down to the market, where he traded them for a shiny little box with glass lenses mounted on the front. Peering with one eyeball through the lenses, all of the colors in the world appeared brighter, and the flowers more beautiful.
As such, camera consciousness was born.