I took off the top cover and, somehow, I knew immediately. I carefully pried open the box, and after sifting through a few bits of paper packaging, the cardboard mold of the F6 revealed itself. It was gold, and emblazoned with words I thought IРІР‚в„ўd never see in the flesh РІР‚вЂњ Nikon F6. What greeted me from inside this innocuous box was another, prettier box. 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 hadnРІР‚в„ўtР’В ordered anything, but I was mostly sure it wasnРІР‚в„ўt 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 РІР‚вЂњ 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 passengerРІР‚в„ўs 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.

Nikon f6 35mm