This is the Lamy. It’s a simple pen, but it’s German-produced and sturdy. I bought it a few years ago, after moving to the Netherlands. It was a luxury, but it was also a kind of symbol for myself. The move to Europe was a going to be a re-commitment to things I cared about, things like writing, things that were more or less tabled during my years I Ethiopia. I had these books to finish. And more, strangely, how I missed the theatre. I was writing one short play per year before I left for Ethiopia. I’ve staged two since I’ve been here. I’m working on three more. It feels like breathing fresh air again. I’m greedy for it. But, after all, I don’t use the Lamy much. It’s the day of the keyboard. But I make excuses for using it. I like the feel of it, the weight and the smooth roll of it. It’s about writing.