Piper Nuelle

The life of a pen is a hard one, you write, you tell a story, your ink is your blood, spilling out all over the pages, exposing your soul, exposing your words that flow through sentences and into paragraphs, from the first draft through to the final. The pens work is never done… until it runs dry, the nib scraping along the page, trying to gasp just one more cough of life into the page. It’s a sad affair loosing a pen. It has moulded to your hand, to your writing style, to how you grip and execute your line work… but when the pen dies, looses life, looses the blood work to stain the page, it must be buried and forgotten, then a new pen takes the centre stage. But it doesn’t feel the same, the ink doesn’t flow as good, until when it too dies, and you miss its grip in your grasp, as you then adopt a new pen and the process begins all over again… Death of a pen…

Xo Piper Xo