I broke my fountain pen this weekend. The imperial blue ink that I used in my Lamy CP1 had run out, and when I tried to refill the ink, I inadvertently broke the internal fill mechanism inside the pen.
I spent many hours researching a replacement pen, but I couldn’t find a perfect substitute. Instead, I was left to negotiate the next best alternative and hope for the best.
In the process of deliberating, I found myself forced to consider the utility of using pens at all in our increasingly digital age. In really every respect, pens are bygone specters of an age long past. Their usefulness is almost as passé as the bottles of ink that are sold to fill them.
And yet, there’s something intangibly satisfying about setting pen to paper – to seeing one’s ideas made manifest in written form; to seeing one’s thoughts scratched on paper as mankind has done for countless centuries since that first ancestor etched stories on the walls of caves.
Writing is primal.
Despite the fact that I pride myself on my technological prowess, that ancient link between humans, pen, and paper won the day. And it was rather an easy decision to write again. I hope it’s a trend that continues.
Suppose it should be easier now with my new Lamy Studio fountain pen – in imperial blue, no less.
Pax Plena 
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