Ftrain, by Paul Ford

Collage

I took my new camera up to the roof, with a tripod and a bottle of beer. The Republican National Convention was just ending, and I was alone with the expressway. The moon brought me up here—waning now, but full just last evening. And, it turned out, obscured by clouds, but fast-moving clouds.

I am still learning this camera. It falls short of more serious models with interchangable lenses. I didn’t purchase one of those because then I’d feel obligated towards it. I’d wonder if I needed another lens or filter, and I might enter that state of continual shopping that is the disease of the hobbyist.

So I bought the dilettante’s camera. It is mostly a blind creature. It takes in the world in blinks. I’ve started to see the world through its lens, noting how certain things are in front of other things, wondering how long the shutter must stay open to capture the grays of the moon, and placing lens caps over my eyes when it is time to sleep.