When I saw that its origin was CP founder James, I immediately carried it into the house, grabbed some scissors, and sliced through the packaging. Its presence was a little strange, as I hadn’t ordered anything, but I was mostly sure it wasn’t a bomb. It was just a few weeks ago that I discovered a benign looking package sitting on my front porch. I shifted between grief and remembrance, and wandered around the house aimlessly as the memory of a truly great camera still lingered in my brain. The rest of the day was spent in a silent stupor – the muted shock which occurs when someone or something truly special is taken from us.
I drove home, the familiar presence of a bulky, black camera sadly absent from my passenger’s seat.
I headed to the post office and reverently handed the package to a clerk, who unceremoniously stuffed it into a shopping cart and distractedly ordered me to have a nice day. I shut the gold box for the last time and laid it into a bigger, blander box, a Priority Mail shipping label from Los Angeles to Boston its only decoration.
0 kommentar(er)
