There on the ground lies the pencil.

On the gravel track by the side of the wide, green reserve. Lying in the dirt and the dust.

It’s no ordinary pencil. No simple red or blue wooden body with a sharpened graphite tip. No HB or B stamp to denote the density and relative hardness (or softness) of the graphite contained within.

Instead the pencil’s round body is wrapped in a plastic sheath promoting the Transformers media and toy franchise. Abstract motor vehicles furiously swirling in midair and unfolding into giant mechanised robots. With the Transformers copyrighted brand name in the brand block typeface in white and the branded autobot mask logo in dull gold.

The pencil has yet to be sharpened, yet to be used for writing or drawing. Not so much a means of communication and as a means of distraction.

A means of consumption, not creation.

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