Today my Canon PowerShot SD800 died. It has been a faithful friend. It was my first mini-digi and for a long time, the only camera I used. When I decided to take a picture a day at the beginning of this year, it braved all circumstances coming out in the wind, rain, fog, sand, you name it. It just popped in my pocket and off we went to document the world.
Around May or June, I decided I wanted to take my photography to the next level and invested in an Olympus. My poor little Canon became the workhorse—the camera I would take when I didn’t want to risk anything happening to the fancier, newer addition. It came to NYC with me and got dropped. It’s casing cracking open. A quick snap, and it was back in place and continued working like the pro it was.
It came out to the bars, to the beaches, and remained my daily buddy that I would never leave home without.
SD, I will miss you. RIP.