A New Best Mate
There’s nothing like it. A new camera in your hands.
You open the box slowly, though you’re itching to tear it apart. You lift it out, feel the weight of it. Solid. Cold metal and glass. It smells new, like fresh plastic and the promise of something waiting.
You hold it up, press the shutter for the first time. That sound. Crisp, sharp. Like the click of a lock turning. It’s a thrill, no doubt.
Then you start to look at it properly. The dials, the buttons, the screen. You know what they do, but still, you press each one. Just to feel it. Just to be sure.
A new camera isn’t just a tool. It’s a door. It opens up the world again. You’ll see things differently. You’ll look harder, frame sharper. Everything feels fresh.
You think about the first shot. It doesn’t have to be good. It just has to be. You head outside, the camera hanging heavy around your neck. The strap’s stiff, not yet moulded to you.
You lift the camera to your eye. The world looks better already. The lines are cleaner, the colours deeper. Or maybe that’s just you, seeing with new eyes.
The first click feels good. The second, better. You start to forget the camera. It disappears into your hands.
And then it’s just you and the scene in front of you. That’s the magic of it. A new camera isn’t just gear. It’s a beginning.
And every photographer loves a beginning.