04/04/23 19:19

As with a large proportion of my Parisian writings, I tend to end rather abruptly.  Food is served, I run out of time or my tea is finished.  And also with a large proportion of my Parisian writings, I tend to start the next entry on a fairly unrelated topic.  Much like I am doing now.  Sometimes, I manage to backtrack enough to get to where I was and on this occasion, I’ve done exactly that.  Thankfully.  First, just to let you know that I’ve finally bought a fountain pen, un stylo plume, in Paris.  A Sea Gems, German iridium pointed, Celtic styled silver and black pen.  I’ve also added an Herbin Bleu Pervenche ink cartridge.  And it is with this combination that I’m writing this entry.  It’s a smooth nib, I’d risk saying a medium, but it’s an absolute dream to write with.  Nicely weighted and unposted, it feels like a mini pen that is pretty and nicely placed upon the thenar web space.  Some people refer to it as the flagina or even the perlicue.  I always thought the flagina was the skin on your elbow that is loose and tends to be easily grabbable.  Anyway, posted, the Celtic emblems gently cut against the grain of my skin as my fingers work their literal magic, all the whilst the cyanic blue pigments flow easily into the words that you are now reading.  Only if you’re reading my notebook and not on the screen or any future book that may be produced from my words. But that’s the colour, not the words.