Thursday, November 3, 2011


A few days ago at work: busy as usual and me trying to get some answers, for which I needed to ask a colleague. The nice guy type, round 50, extremely high education (pre-phd, phd, post phd, highschool, university, phd...), very devoted to his work and always willing to share a piece of his wisdom with the others.

So here I am, at his desk,  posing the question, not fully aware that I might not be able to handle the truth. Before I realised what hit me, he went on explaining to me about the Lessing's curves that are involved in the matter (don't look up, you don't want to know what they are). These scientists, sooo excited about their work! Had those curves been a woman they would have been doing it right there on the floor, sending a 200-page Code of Conduct into oblivion.

Needless to say, I was lost from the very moment those curves came into view("what would she look like?", thought I indecently) and felt that my original question would be on hold for a while. Anyway, I didn't want to break the scientific spell, so I immediately put on the I-fully-understand-and-appreciate-this-story face and hoped that someone would keep the long dissertation short.

Then it happened. He took a piece of paper, to draw those curves. And then it hit me (not that they looked like tits, although they did), but something else struck me. The man in front of me produced a kind of stick from his pocket, unscrewed its top and started to draw: it was a fountain pen! I could not believe my eyes, he surely is the last of the engineers to use such a tool, especially in this very high tech environment. I stopped following him and watched the fountain pen. It was a short one, black body, broad stainless steel nib, with a rather quaint look which, together with the beautiful and neat handwriting, underlined its personality.

I could not help thinking of what would Mr. Poenaru think of his child? Difficult to say, but he'd definitely be pleased to see someone still using it. And then I thought of myself, as a student, back in my youth, when I'd go to a stationery shop and always get a buzz and try to get as many as my budget stretched (Ok, you're right, I went to pubs much more often, but still :) ). Wow, I couldn't resist back then, I was as addicted as some people are at the fruit machines. Pens, pencils, automatic pencils (0.3, 0.5, 0.7 mm), crayons, fountain pens, all sorts, I wanted to have them all :)

Somehow, through the years, the excitement has gone, don't know how, when or why, probably much in the same way as the love for that girl in the first high school year subsided and was put aside. But then, for a split second, I had the feeling that I saw that girl walking down the street in a rush. And she looked completely unchanged.


  1. astia cu talent la scris se vad de mici: incep cu obsesia pt creioane si pixuri ! :))) (si Andi avea aceeasi pasiune)

  2. I still have - and sometimes use - a fountain pen. That being said, I'm not at all into curves...

  3. @Ioana:De ascutitori ce zice Andi?:)
    @Luura: Nu ma mir ca ai si folosesti inca stilou, se muleaza pe simtul tau literar artistic. Cum ar fi intr-o pictura, "you're into colours, not into curves" :)

  4. tin minte sa aiba vreun fetish cu ascutitorile :)