My favorite inanimate object is my Nikon D3200 camera. We've been on many adventures together, but one could say that it has experienced the world through a different lens (oh, the puns) from me.
I chose to get a camera over a car for my 16th birthday. Believe it or not, that actually was a good decision, because I've used that camera more often than I could have imagined. About a month after I got it, though, I did something I hadn't done before: I actually left my backyard to go take pictures.
I'm sure that if it were alive, my camera would have been elated to finally get a chance to stop blinking at my neighbor's flowers. I drove to a pond out in the middle of nowhere (38.064447, -84.310890, to be precise) and spent a couple of hours photographing, well, everything.
This must have been a very different experience for my camera--new air, new atmosphere, wild plants instead of meticulously groomed ones- it was all so new, so different. Until then, the farthest the camera had ever traveled was the field next door to my house, and so another field miles away may as well have been a foreign nation.
The life of a camera is an unfortunately boring one. Being held up to objects and being poked until you blink can't be very fun no matter how interesting the thing you're looking at. Not to mention the fact that when something you're looking at is too far off, your face is removed and replaced with a longer one.
I'd like to think, though, that my camera enjoys the work it does. After all, it does produce some amazing images. Now, it travels everywhere: to school, to other random fields, and even as far as Atlanta, Georgia; perhaps I'll call this a reward for good behavior. My camera has recently started looking at things for a long time without blinking (film). I don't yet know if it enjoys that or not.
P.S. I don't actually personify my camera. The only time I talk to it is when I yell at it for being dumb.
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