Kedr gave me his camera not long after I met him. It was this really old Soviet thing made of metal and leather, with black gaffer tape all round it. He said he hadn't used it in years and years and that he might as well give it to me. It still had some film inside from I don't know when, so I went out and took some pictures with it that same day.

I don't think I'll ever get over how he reacted when the film came back from processing about a week later, and I showed him the pictures he'd taken so many years ago. I have never felt more disturbed than I did that day, not of him, but of whatever it was that made him feel like that. I've never used that camera again, I haven't even touched it. It's just lying on a shelf in the cupboard under the stairs, gathering dust, wondering what it's done wrong.

(I'd like to thank everyone who left nice comments yesterday, I'm feeling a bit better tonight. Hope you are all well.)