I like broken pencils.
I didn't realise I liked them until I went on a pencil hunt tonight.
I found about five perfectly sharpened pencils laying on the table, all shiny and neat.
Then I saw one, leadless, banged up on the ground.
I picked it up.
I kinda think somebody may have smashed it while eagerly playing a roleplaying game, or some such.
We have Friday night gatherings.
The wood around where the lead should be chipped off and fluttered to the ground.
I rubbed the stem of it.
I decided I liked damaged pencils. Because damaged pencils, like damaged art, have the potential to be fixed.
It's good mojo.
So I took it to my room, I sharpened it, and now I will use it for my next piece.
Oh, broken pencil!
I like you!