There’s an iPhone 15 in my pocket. It’s always there. It takes beautiful photos – sharp, bright, technically perfect. But still, something is missing.

Atmosphere.

Over the past few years, I’ve become more aware of what really matters to me in a photograph. It’s not resolution or dynamic range. It’s not how smart the camera is. It’s the feeling – that quiet, subtle emotion that sneaks into the frame when you’re not trying too hard.

That’s why, when it comes to photographing my daughter, I reach for the Ricoh GR IIIx.

It’s small, unassuming, quick. It doesn’t get in the way. I don’t have to direct her or ask her to stand still. I just watch. And when the moment arrives, I press the shutter. That’s all. No drama, no setup, no portrait mode.

The JPEGs straight out of the Ricoh feel like something I could have found in an old photo box – soft edges, gentle tones, something lived-in. Something real. There’s a cinematic quiet to them. A kind of digital poetry that reminds me of shooting film, only without the wait.

I’ve been documenting her life with this little camera since the very beginning. First smiles, sleepy eyes, crumbs on cheeks, tiny hands gripping flowers. Small things, but they feel bigger in these photos. They feel permanent.

This isn’t a review. It’s not about specs or comparisons. It’s just a simple truth: for me, the GR IIIx is the perfect family camera. Not because it’s the most advanced – but because it disappears, and lets the moment stay.

And years from now, when she’s grown, I hope these quiet pictures will still speak. Of what it felt like to be here. Of how it looked through my eyes.

And just one more thing – all the images shown here are straight out of camera, with no post-processing. Just as I saw them, that’s how I share them. The Ricoh simply gets it right.