I never planned to become a fountain pen user. It began, quite simply, with a quiet longing — to reconnect with the feeling of writing, not typing. Replacing the tap of a keyboard or the blur of a screen, but intosomething slower. More personal. More… human.
One afternoon, almost by accident, I wandered into a stationery shop. There, tucked beside rows of ordinary pens, was a fountain pen — simple, yet somehow elegant. I picked it up, turned it gently in my hand, and uncapped it. Something about the way it felt — balanced, deliberate — stayed with me.
The first time ink met paper, it wasn’t perfect. It was a different awe. Slower. Richer. And something inside me knew: this was the beginning of a journey.
In a world that spins fast and rarely pauses, a fountain pen invites you to breathe, to listen to your thoughts as they flow onto the page. This is the story of how I went from scratch to signature — and why that quiet act of writing might just change the way you see words, and perhaps, yourself.
