In my grandfather's desk, he kept a slate and a slate pencil. I still feel the narrow smooth soapstone resting against my already-developing writer's callous. I hear its tap-slide against the charcoal-gray slate. Sometimes I couldn't wait for the surface to dry between wet-rag washes, and my marks faded before I could finish an entire word.
A Clean Slate and a Blank Page
A Clean Slate and a Blank Page
A Clean Slate and a Blank Page
In my grandfather's desk, he kept a slate and a slate pencil. I still feel the narrow smooth soapstone resting against my already-developing writer's callous. I hear its tap-slide against the charcoal-gray slate. Sometimes I couldn't wait for the surface to dry between wet-rag washes, and my marks faded before I could finish an entire word.