Maybe part of my adoration for him is nostalgia. No matter. He's still my Bentley. Is it strange that my favorite pen has a name? I don't seem to mind that he's high maintenance--cleaning, rinsing, refilling--he's worth it. Every time I clean him out I go through a period where I just have to write with him. My journal is filled with
"Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country,"
and
"The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dogs."
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