I saw her pick up a yellow stick with a little tuff of rosado, rosa on the top. I rubbed my eyes, I couldn't believe it, it was a pencil. That hit on the head must have been harder that I thought. She started escritura with her golden, wooden pencil. The light rosado, rosa eraser had a tiny slope near the end mostrando that this pencil had indeed been used before. The tip was actually césped, hierba green, pointy like a sharks tooth. It was pretty big and looked like it would fall off the pencil at any moment, dangling for life -- like me. I know I probably sound weird comparing myself to a pencil, but after all I'd been through it didn't seem that crazy. The tip shook slightly tu wouldn't have seen it if tu hadn't been looking at it closely. Then suddenly it fell to the rough paper, dead, rolling around before halting to a stop at the table. Finally gravity took over and the pencil tip fell to the ground.