I spent my teens burning things and not in a anything-will-do kind-of way but in the girl scout, well build fire kind-of way. I was fascinated by the colours, shapes and textures that appeared in an controlled fire. I knew where my parents kept the matches (top of the range in the middle sized left-hand tin) and I'd sneak a box out to go build a camp-fire on their patio and sit with my friends roasting marshmallows.
I'd always scrub the floor afterwards, bury the remains and pop a planter over the scorch mark, I don't think they ever knew.
For my art exam I build a big twig construction in the garden while my dad filmed it and then burnt it to the ground. I got a B (pretty impressive since it was just me being a pyromaniac) and have the whole thing on video to torture my future kids with. The first ever fire I built was on a beach in Scotland supervised (a bit) by my dad. It took me a whole box of swan vesta matches, including the box, to get that baby going - but it burned for five hours and it.was.awesome.
So imagine my delight when the sheer quantity of cardboard and damaged books I had taking over my house justified using an incinerator. And the even greater joy when my brother-in-law dropped his off for me to use!
So I put my fire starter beret on (because we all know that's what all good fire starters wear) and got to work burning everything (except the garden) that I could get my hands on, wicker, cardboard, old books, tax forms...and it was goooood.
The flames were red, gold, blue, green & purple
The fire was throwing off some pretty snazzy shapes
I think the top flame looks fish-like a bit like Cleo from Pinocchio
Eventually the rain came which meant I had to stop and continue the burning in a few days. So being all insp-fire-d I came inside and read Dante's Inferno - because we all know I'm an 'educated' fire starter.