From the time of donkey science

The last word

The guardian told us: “Writing is the science of donkeys. But you have to apply yourself.” I swear I applied myself. As long as I had a list, it didn’t go too badly. Sponge strike on the poorly formed letter and you’re done. But yet! Didn’t you forget the long wooden feather and its metallic beak, too? This was dipped into the inkwell that had its place in the office, protected by a sliding cover. Wet beak, we went back to our notebook page where we copied the letters, lines of letters, words and sentences written on the board.

Between the inkwell and the notepad, the pen has made a perilous journey. For it was the moment when the nib decided to shoot a drop of ink on the page, suddenly blooming with a blue star; Alas, upon discovering it, the guardian lost all sense of astonishment. Such sneaky bombing didn’t happen often