In the beginning, there was the pen, and that pen was a BIC.

Then came the great uncapping, and ink stained the star-paved firmament.

A bubbling blackness as far as the eye could see, or the mind could wander.

And the BIC became two, and two became hundreds, and hundreds became billions.

Billions of small big bangs in billions of hands, BIC pens gave life to the void.

Words, art, music, to-do lists and doodles, even that funny s-shape from middle school.

Billions of BICs, abandoned in pockets, discarded on desks, now held like long-lost lovers found.

Waiting for you to write your thoughts into existence.

Because no idea is too small, or too big for a BIC.