The pencil tip’s scratch is its scrawl that requires no batteries or charging. It invites us to slow down, to savour the process of using things till they truly come to an end – in this case, a stub. The tactile feedback, the subtle resistance as the pencil meets the surface, fosters a connection between mind and hand that transcends the virtual divide.
The pencil is forgiving, allowing for erasures and revisions with ease that the ‘backspace’ and ‘delete’ keys can only hint of. Mistakes become opportunities for further ideas, and the eraser is the champion of second chances. The pencil permits shades, from the faintest whisper of a line to bold strokes that leave a lasting impression.
Each sharpening ritual and diminishing length mark the passage of time. Holding a worn-down pencil is a testament to the countless ideas it has birthed. It is a straight(forward), sturdy reminder of how close thought is to expression.
