I love the physical feel of a pencil in my hand. I love to watch the trails it makes on paper. Writing, drawing, algebra, tomorrow’s grocery list. Lines that squiggle and squirm, go straight to meaning or swirl around combining loops and dips to form a cohesive picture; a story, an idea, a formula with depth and proportion that still, in its intricacy of symbols woven out by the mind alone reveals a truth or lie, a fact or pure emotion.
Simple tool, a pencil.
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Totally agree with you.
I love the way a pencil feels.
i forget how a pencil feels. i should try one again…i have a bunch sitting around, but never use them…it was such a part of my days in catholic grade school, for penminship class. and i use to have that special grip on it when i was first learning to write…i have no clue the last time i used one! wow…i wonder if even younger generations still know what they are!??! with computers and technology, do they still teach with pencils at a young age? okay…sorry for this random comment…but you got me thinking…
I MOSTLY agree — but for me it’s a fine point pen. (Don’t like pencils). GOD I love a fine point pen….
What great input–from Divya who understands my love of the lowly pencil, to Kingfisher who understands the feeling, but whose heart holds a pen instead.
And Kelly, oddly enough, I have the same nun-driven background as you do, and I can still recognize nun-taught penmanship when I see it. Of course, sometimes its because I’ve noticed the scarred knuckles first! Pick up a pencil, a nice Kondiroga #2 and doodle a bit. It’ll all come back to you.
yes, yes…nun driven for sure…sister thomas joseph! ugh! 😉