I love writing. I write a lot. I especially enjoy writing by hand. A new fresh page can be a challenge. It is a pleasure to touch and feel its texture and weight. It makes no difference to me if it's lined or not. Color only makes a diffference on my choice of pens, even though my pages tend to be white or ivory.
I have pens in many colors. I have pens in every shape and size imagineable. How a pen feels when I hold it in my hand is important to me, especially if I am going to be doing a lot of writing. I did so much writing in Tour de Faure that summer of '98, that I had to take toilet paper and scotch tape to create a make-shift bandaid for the third finger on my right hand since there weren't any in the house.These days, I have lots of bandaids. But, sometimes I make one out of toilet paper and tape just to raise the memories of that summer of reading, writing, and wine.
Some of my best writing days have been at my table at the Chatette. The rainbows sneak in from the prisms and dance across my journal to the walls and staircase. Back in New Orleans, I've learned to love my table spot here too. I glory in the trails of lines that are drawn when I hold my pen in my hand and put my pen to paper. From pen point to paper, the ink of my heart and soul escape to the page and flow out into the universe. Sometimes it's just for me. Sometime's it's for the eyes of others. I'm addicted. I can't stop.I hope we never do.
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