I have a handle, but handling me doesn't have anything to do with me or my handle these days. But let's not focus on that - let's move the camera over to examine another one of my meanings: to criticize, which is what would be done to you if you didn't move the camera smoothly.

My life can be measured in hours. I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am fast. Thick, I am slow. Wind is my foe. What am I?

I have teeth but don't eat. You can put something into me, but I'm not a container. You can switch multiple of me, but I'm not a toggle. I'm irritating when someone grinds me. I'm preparing for something when I'm up. I'm preparing for landing when I'm down.

I can be used as a bolt or pin. I can hang, fasten, or mark a thing. If you suggest me during intercourse, you might be admired or called the worst.

I fit in sockets, and brighten the space, I sprout, then grow, then flower in place. A four-letter word, one few stop to think, Yet I live in the soil, and glow in a blink.