Last night while clearing out old paperwork that was several years old, I came a across a folder sitting at the bottom of my storage container (Something forgotten) and inside this container was 600 sheets of paper filled from front to back with writing. Funny the folder contained a book that I had started righting in 2010, unfinished it has been sitting in that container for four years. So in sitting in the mess of papers and books scattered on my floor, I decided to read this book, seven pages in I began to cry; not because it was sad but because I remember the joy I got from sitting down with pen and paper, bringing my hidden thoughts and imagination to life in this way made me happy. Looking at the paper now in the four years it has turned yellow and some of the pages have coffee stain on them from where I would sit my mug, there are editing remarks on the sides, and some pages are still folded at the top as a reminder to go back and a recheck. Life took me away from finishing this book, the moving and working at the time I had totally forgotten about what I loved to do. Now I don’t need pen and paper to write technology has taken that away but now that I know that this book hasn’t been touched in so long I have the urge to finish what I started. I will never through it away, but keep it as a reminder that my love for writing started like this… Simple pen and paper.