Before I knew why, I already felt the need.
It wasn’t a grand decision or a deliberate leap into something vintage. It was more of a quiet nudge — a subtle feeling that writing had lost its soul somewhere along the way. I missed the calm of forming each letter, the steady rhythm of thought moving through ink.
Ballpoint pens were everywhere. Cheap, fast, forgettable. But they never made me want to write. Their convenience came with a trade-off: flatness, haste, and a mechanical feel. I wanted something more deliberate — a tool that felt like an extension of thought, not just a plastic cylinder in my hand.
I had often wondered: why use a fountain pen at all?
Was it just nostalgia? Style? A longing for the past?
Then one quiet day, I gave in. Not to be fancy or different — but to slow down, even just a little. I chose the Pilot Kakuno, a beginner’s fountain pen known for its cheerful look and honest simplicity. It wasn’t expensive or showy. But it worked. It invited me into a gentler world.
I wrote that first line slowly — watching the ink flow effortlessly, the nib gliding like it belonged on the page. Something about it made me feel… present.
I had found the difference I didn’t know I was searching for.