The Ballad of a Broken Camera
It had to happen eventually, and after nine months of world travel, sometimes through mildly hazardous environments, my camera finally took a big hit.
The Fall in Firenze
At lunch in Firenze (non-Italians call it Florence), my trusty camera, which I had foolishly placed on the table, fell off and clattered to the ground.
We were sitting at an outside table on the street, and when it hit the base of the metal table it clanged with a heart-stopping sound and the whole street went quiet.
It wasn't the first time it had fallen in the past nine months, but it was certainly the worst. And, in sharp contrast to the other falls, this time it suffered some damage.
It now has some trouble with the motor that powers the auto-focus, so it can't really focus well at either end of its focal range. Aside from that small issue, it seems to work okay with manual focus. I can still take pictures—it just takes a little extra time.
But I choose to look on the bright side. At least the camera body wasn't broken (at least it doesn't seem to be) ... and I had nine months of using a damage-free camera ... and now I get to buy a new (better) lens. But until that happens, the quality of photography over here will be a little less thrilling. So sorry about that.