My camera is gone.
Some where between leaving Vancouver and arriving in Toronto my camera went missing. And I have gone over it every last detail... called every venue at which it may have been left, but so far no avail. It seems I have exhausted all avenues, and my Nikon, my dear darling D40 has left me for good.
And so my heart aches.
I walk around in this new place, and involuntarily compose photographs. I see a chinese man with long whiskers selling lychee on Spadina and think of how I would crouch down low and zoom in to capture the hunch of his backbone. I parade down the streets dancing behind samba bands in school pride parades and I dream of running, as other fellow students, around the event, up on benches, on flatbeds of trucks take pictures from high and low to immortalize my first Frosh week.
But I can't, all I can do is crave to feel the snap of a shutter, and the thrill of a capture. All I can do is miss my camera, left behind, like the rest of my life.
1 comment:
I mourn with you, B. It's a sad thing to see that camera go. You made the world so beautiful with that camera through your eyes. My only hope is that it will find its way (in one form or another) back to you someday.
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