The Pencil from Italy

Writing—or rather, for me, it’s more like drawing letters—doesn’t come with a fixed tool. Pencils, fountain pens, markers, mechanical pencils, colored pencils, brush pens, crayons… Each has its own character, and I decide which to use depending on my mood that day.

I always thought I preferred fairly thick pencils, but lately, my sense of thickness and material has opened up and become much freer.

Every December, Tokyo hosts the TOKYO ART BOOK FAIR, the largest book fair in Asia. Exhibitors gather from all over the world, and it’s always lively. I look forward to it every year, and I’ve been going four years in a row now.
Since it’s a book fair, the main focus is naturally on books, but a growing number of booths also sell related goods—tote bags, stationery, and other small items.

Two years ago, I stopped by a booth run by an exhibitor from Italy. Among the Italian-language books on display, they were also selling pencils.
I picked one up, and it was simply beautiful. The way it felt in my hand, the design, the length and weight—so stylish, so unmistakably Italian stationery. I bought just one and brought it home.

When I got home and drew a line on paper, the feel of it was wonderful too. I hurried to try it on all kinds of paper, and it kept impressing me.
I treasured it carefully, but I started to worry—what would I do once this one ran out? I searched desperately for an online shop, but I simply couldn’t find one.

While I was cherishing it like that, I learned last year that the same exhibitor would be returning to the fair, so I reached out to them.

I told them, carefully, that it was the finest pencil I’d ever used, and that I regretted only buying one the year before. I asked if they would sell me some again this year.
We met again in Tokyo last year, and I was able to buy several.

That pencil excites me, makes my heart race—whether I’m drawing a picture or writing letters.

It’s just a pencil, but at the end of the day, I pick up the tool that feels the very best to me, and freely jot down whatever words have risen up in my heart, before I go to sleep.
At night, once I’ve picked up this pencil, I don’t look at my phone anymore.

I’m grateful to this pencil for keeping me company through such an important time.

If I ever get the chance to go to Milan, I will absolutely go and buy more. Don’t worry—the design printed on the pencil is, of all things, an address.
I’ll take this pencil, and Google Maps, and go buy some.