In Grade 3, we graduated from pencils to fountain pens, which involved cartridges, ink-stained fingers, and much-blotched notebooks. Yes, there was a learning curve, but the process of writing was transformed. Cursive in pencil felt childish; cursive by nib, sophisticated. Writing suddenly felt worldly, and
I suddenly felt like a man of the world: confident and strong. This early sample of my penmanship, bold if calligraphically imperfect, is undoubtedly the only one that survives today. I’m certain that the one I affixed to my love letter to
Catherine Deneuve, sent c/o Chanel No. 5, Paris, France, (never answered) did not.
Inspired by
Doodling and
Artless. The image is an AI approximation to prevent (sadly) identity theft.
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