My rangefinder is dead. It was made the same year as me.
In Turkey they still repair objects rather than replace them. But not my camera, it is beyond repair.
This is George. We met at Battersea Arts Centre where in the ballroom they still hold tea dances.
It is the only photo of interest from the test roll I shot. Originally I surmised I had not mastered focusing on a rangefinder, but since the moment when the focal ring fell out on the beach, unattached to the lens, I think differently. I have also missed the morning rays learning much about vintage cameras and bidding for a replacement under eBay’s midnight luminescence. Time for me to say hello to the sun again, and for you to say hello to George, the dancing man.