The all-metal body of the X-Pro1 made me reach for it more than once. It made me go take walks for no other reason than it’s fun to hold on to it.



Strolling down the dark alleys of the human demise, across many villages and towns, the camera was always fitting in the moment: Never too much, à la Nikon D3/D4, never too little, à la Pen-F, but just right. It was the perfect tool for the intrepid voyager, sojourner here and there on Earth at the conquest of some rare glimpses of cracks on the egg of human consciousness.

Many worlds were crossed, traveled, and departed with this X-Pro1 in hand.



I wrote a while ago that the Nikon Df was the Plato of cameras. If that’s the case, then the X-Pro1 is the Joseph Chilton Pearce: it takes you to the depth of the worm at the core of the human consciousness without ever leaving you in the limbo, staying away from grey zone of the human existence where many young men loose their will to chase the perfection of being. The X-Pro1 was always the official philosopher’s camera. It was the tool to lurched oneself forward into the chase of the Higher Self.



The X-Pro1 led you to a chase of The Something Else and that’s why it was so great.