The V5 is by far the most superior pen. It has all the strength and integrity of the V7 while providing its user with the most elegant and thin pen strokes known to man. Cheaper and more casual than a true calligraphy pen, it is completely utilitarian in the best of ways, strong both in efficiency and character. Its smooth, cylindrical body is easy to hold, and requires none of the silly, bulky eyesores they call "grippers."
Today would be like any other day, and the V5 would ride alongside a young girl, his head just barely peeking from the top of the purse to which he was so handily attached by his metal clip. Hopefully the day would be quiet and peaceful, and he could ink out some fluid message of meaning. He imagined the air would be cool against his tip, and the paper smooth and inviting.
But alas! it was not so. He soon came to understand that this outing allowed no such state of ease.
At one point, the plucking of strings and the emission of voices became so loud that he thought he might lose his cap. He thought to recall a sweet dream he scribbled a few days ago--how delightful it was--yes; that would make it all better.
But suddenly came a greater disturbance and a crushing noise. With a thump and stumble, his home jolted around him and he became dislodged. He was now on the cold, dark, crowded floor of the purse. He knew he was helpless, and soon became despondent. As the image of the sacred dream drifted from him, the hole in his felt tip leaked out his final drops.
Today would be like any other day, and the V5 would ride alongside a young girl, his head just barely peeking from the top of the purse to which he was so handily attached by his metal clip. Hopefully the day would be quiet and peaceful, and he could ink out some fluid message of meaning. He imagined the air would be cool against his tip, and the paper smooth and inviting.
But alas! it was not so. He soon came to understand that this outing allowed no such state of ease.
At one point, the plucking of strings and the emission of voices became so loud that he thought he might lose his cap. He thought to recall a sweet dream he scribbled a few days ago--how delightful it was--yes; that would make it all better.
But suddenly came a greater disturbance and a crushing noise. With a thump and stumble, his home jolted around him and he became dislodged. He was now on the cold, dark, crowded floor of the purse. He knew he was helpless, and soon became despondent. As the image of the sacred dream drifted from him, the hole in his felt tip leaked out his final drops.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.