… Is apparantly to be able to write.
I stumbled across one of these on a flea market the other day, although not as nice. I wrote something on it – and it obediently printed : “Hello, my name is Jojo”.
I was flung back in time, when people actually had these at home. I used to make up short stories and entertain myself when visiting my parents´friends, and immediately wished we had some space for this beauty.
I would write everything on it – novels, shopping lists, invitation cards (which I of course send out frequently, together with “thank you” notes after dinners and weddings etc., like a real lady from the 19th century who entertains guest during noon and then knits and sews. Not.) I would lose track of my own handwriting. This is how much I want this.