And the days go on and on…

Today feels like autumn

That is because it is autumn.

This pen has been with me I don’t remember how many years. It fits in my hand it. That, perhaps, it’s because I have used it for a long time. The Parker blue ink dos not jump into my eyes as it were their owner. It stays on the page, sometimes still, sometimes dancing.

The steps I have been taking slowly in the last few days are pointing at a new direction, building on what I have been doing before, but, I hope, with new eyes – based on the tired old ones. I am not ditching all this new technology – I need to tame this laptop, building resilience as machines, ultimately, fail. But these words will remain as long as the paper where they were originally written does not perish, and the ink remains visible.

The pleasure of writing with a fountain pen makes me smile on my insides. What I am writing, whatever it is, remains visible to my eyes: switching on a machine is not required.

These words do not mean that I am ditching all this new (well!) technology. There is space for new and old ways of doing things to stay in the same room side by side.

This morning I cleaned this pen after a few years of not using it. The sensuality as it hits the paper makes me content. Pleasurably it is.

What day is today? I am not going to look at the tablet, or the calendar, to know. It is early November, Halloween fireworks being noisy outside, lit by the kids of the neighbourhood.

I look through the window, the golden evening light bathe the fallen leaves. The sun hiding in the far golden toned shades the otherwise mundane industrial landscape filtering through the gaps of the estate.

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