Picture and words by: Madis Katz
In the expensive night express from Tbilisi to Zugdidi we sat for six and a half hours. All other trains were sold out. That was about as bad as it sounds.
In Zugdidi I wanted to take pictures. That was about all I wanted or expected. When I took the – long awaited – first picture, I heard a weird noise, a muzzled click from inside my camera. A determined click of hopelessness. My camera was broken.
About the only thing I had no courage for to (nor knowledge how to) get repaired in Georgia was my old, dear camera what had just been clicking at me.
A friend happened to come to Georgia some time later, few weeks later, and that was about the only plan I had – to send it back to Estonia with him. I know an old guy here who can fix those things. (He said he can not imagine how something like that could have happened (and I still don’t know what actually happened)). He repaired it.
Some months after the trip to Zugdidi my flatmate’s mother was coming to visit him. That was about the most trustworthy possibility to get the camera back to Georgia. Mother’s hands – this always sounds tender.
Next time I was in Zugdidi I seriously considered not taking any pictures at all. And I still – now it’s almost a year later - owe 20€ to this friend who took the camera to the old guy and paid for the job.
That’s about all I have to say about this picture:
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'
In the expensive night express from Tbilisi to Zugdidi we sat for six and a half hours. All other trains were sold out. That was about as bad as it sounds.
In Zugdidi I wanted to take pictures. That was about all I wanted or expected. When I took the – long awaited – first picture, I heard a weird noise, a muzzled click from inside my camera. A determined click of hopelessness. My camera was broken.
About the only thing I had no courage for to (nor knowledge how to) get repaired in Georgia was my old, dear camera what had just been clicking at me.
A friend happened to come to Georgia some time later, few weeks later, and that was about the only plan I had – to send it back to Estonia with him. I know an old guy here who can fix those things. (He said he can not imagine how something like that could have happened (and I still don’t know what actually happened)). He repaired it.
Some months after the trip to Zugdidi my flatmate’s mother was coming to visit him. That was about the most trustworthy possibility to get the camera back to Georgia. Mother’s hands – this always sounds tender.
Next time I was in Zugdidi I seriously considered not taking any pictures at all. And I still – now it’s almost a year later - owe 20€ to this friend who took the camera to the old guy and paid for the job.
That’s about all I have to say about this picture:
______________________________________
'
