L'avion et un jeune garçon.

«Qui va dessiner, chéri?» maman m’a dit, tenant un papier et des crayons de couleur. Nous étions dans un avion, dans le ciel au-dessus du Thaï, et pendant la durée du voyage, j’étais scotché aux casques d’écoute. Ma mère avait l’air ennuyé autour d’elle,  tapant le crayon sur le papier. Il y avait 5 heures depuis notre départ des Philippines, et des nuages dansaient sur le paysage dessous. Il y avait des belles couleurs dans le ciel : les bleues en haut, les grises d’argent autour de nous, et les nuances des carrés verts en bas.

J’ai répondu, «Euh, je ne sais pas, je n’en ai pas très envie…» En écoutant la musique classique à la radio, je n’ai compris rien ce qu’elle m’a dit.  Collé aux Tchaikovsky, Ravel et Debussy, j’étais perdu au monde classique. Je faillais être dans une autre réalité quand ma mère m’a poussé en disant, «Karlo!! Réveille-toi vite! Le ciel est très très très beau!»  J’étais confuse en fait, parce que je pensais toute la journée que l’on est sur une route par terre : que l’avions n’ont jamais pris au ciel.

Nous sommes descendus l’avion, moi, j’étais encore et encore confuse, aucune idée ce qui se passait en air. 

The Pursuit of Paper.

Classes started in university this week, and as I was doing my shopping for school, I had a checklist of the usual suspects with me: one 4-subject notebook with divider pockets to alleviate the need for a separate folder for my hand-outs. It's true, I only need one thing to purchase every semester. The usual notebook I buy is this custom-made notebook specifically for school, since it's cheaper, and, for the past 5 semesters I've been using this notebook, has been friendly to my fountain pens, even to the most free-flowing of inks I use (ahem, J. Herbin).

And as usual, this semester was no different: I bought the same notebook for the same price, only with one fatal exception: the paper quality has suffered so badly that when I write with even my driest writer, an extra-fine Esterbrook, with the driest of inks possible, Pelikan Blue-Black, each word I write bleeds through like sweat on a cotton shirt. It's not a very pleasant analogy, indeed, but this is what it feels like to rely on such notebook for so long, only to find out that the quality has diminished so quickly. It's astounding how such regression occurs: I love the notebooks my school releases, but the notebook I use for notes and ink testing has just flown off the grid. It sucks. I checked on the other notebooks that the school sells, and I was relieved to find out that the paper hadn't changed a bit. I decided to buy one for a friend of mine who equally loves fountain pens, and hope that she discovers le plaisir d'écriture with this notebook.

In a hurried panic during the first week of classes, I consulted the bible of all pen enthusiasts: The Fountain Pen Network. I was glad to know that there are a bunch of inexpensive alternatives to the notebook I had so dearly loved. I bought a cheap Mead notebook with the same divider pockets, and a Staples Bagasse notebook that people at FPN have been raving about. Problem solved. I do hope it works out well for me, and the paper takes in my ink generously,