I've just put pen to paper for the first time on my Moleskine notebook. It's a strangely sensual experience that cannot be replicated by tapping away on my laptop.
I was given the notebook in question as a leaving present from my work colleagues. It has been waiting patiently for inspiration to strike me. It would have been sacrilegious to sully its pages with any old jottings; the simple elegance of the notebook demanded a worthy idea.
While most people have not used a fountain pen since their school days, I'm still fond of this rather old fashioned writing implement.
The ink glides across the page. It's the same sensation I felt as a child: the joy of being the first one to walk across a pristine snowy wilderness.
While sometimes I'll go straight to the computer and start writing, sometimes you just can't beat the feeling of ink upon paper. Thoughts flow differently, somehow.