Half a century or so ago, when I was green and dying (and singing in my chains), I was a sucker for rOtring pens and Pelikan inks and wire-bound sketchbooks. I was afflicted with an inability to pass by either of the town's two art stationers without lingering in them for a while and emerging with ink, nibs or paper I didn't actually need, nor could afford.
Half a century or so ago, when I was green and dying (and singing in my chains), I was a sucker for rOtring pens and Pelikan inks and wire-bound sketchbooks. I was afflicted with an inability to pass by either of the town's two art stationers without lingering in them for a while and emerging with ink, nibs or paper I didn't actually need, nor could afford.
The struggle is real.