It held itself sturdy on the woven placemat, on a square base, shining black plastic paint. It looked like it had been taken out of the box, this camera. The camera as I knew traveled cross-country into alpine fields of Alaska to massive plumes of Niagara. Occasional bursts of dust occurred here and there, but all and all the camera remained new and sleek. The lens, having been covered with a round black cap, hid its power from the world, like a blindfold over an eye; it had been he eye which captured vacations and all its memories. Gray buttons covered the base and sides, gleaming as if polished with silver tarnish remover. The tiny screen as well looked brand new, black and dead now with the switch off. A long strap attached to the sides which made for easy carrying, especially useful when clambering over steep mountain trails or when visibility got foggy I had to grope around for safety. As a whole this camera no bigger than a small snack box, could never fail to strike a special place in my heart. Whether waterfalls forming misty plumes or mountains with a sense of confusing travelers I knew this camera would capture more than just the swathing landscapes.