I can only cry out and implore, “Oh, ring, ring, open wide and let us out!” Yours, Anne
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1943
Dearest Kitty, I have a good title for this chapter: Ode to My Fountain Pen In Memoriam
My fountain pen was always one of my most prized possessions; I valued it highly,
especially because it had a thick nib, and I can only write neatly with thick nibs.
It has led a long and interesting fountain-pen life, which I will summarize below.
When I was nine, my fountain pen (packed in cotton) arrived as a “sample of no commercial value”
all the way from Aachen, where my grandmother (the kindly donor) used to live.
I lay in bed with the flu, while the February winds howled around the apartment house.
This splendid fountain pen came in a red leather case, and I showed it to my girlfriends the first chance I got.
Me, Anne Frank, the proud owner of a fountain pen.
When I was ten, I was allowed to take the pen to school, and to my surprise, the teacher even let me write with it.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색