Last week, I sent my new Leica Q2 Monochrome back to B&H Photo. Their customer service is legendary, and when I told them the new Leica was freezing up at times and I asked for help, they insisted that I send it back and accept a new one, no questions asked.

The new one came today, and I was shocked at how different the camera is from the first one. I struggled with focus, clarity, and depth of field; I had trouble figuring out the settings.

I was off and running in a minute with w his camera. We bonded in a flash.

The first Leica and I really weren’t getting along; I felt like it was fighting me. I think I see now that there was something wrong with it; this new Leica practically jumped into my arms, kissed me on the nose, and said, “let’s go!”

This camera was shockingly different. I got it up and running in a minute or so, and the camera seems to know what I want of it even before I did. I already feel like it’s a little brother, it will always be near me.

“Sounds like the first camera was a lemon and not quite right,” Elizabeth posted on my blog.” Now you’re cooking with gas!” That’s just what it felt like. I can go to the moon with this camera, and I think I will.

To me, a good camera is like a great dog. You don’t say much to it. You aren’t all that aware of it, but you expect it to be there when you need it, knowing what I want it to do.

This camera has only been with me since 3 p.m., but  I’m thrilled with it. It was worth all the monye it took from me. Tthis is the Leica I dreamed about all these years and never expected to have. I traded in every lens and camera I ever had to get it, and all week, I was wondering if it was worth it.

It was and is, this camera is my little brother. We’re going to spend a lot of time together.

A creative tool is not just a tool. It’s a way of looking at the world, a chance to laugh and learn and grow. You are invited to come along on the ride. It prompts rebirth and makes me see the world anew.