It was a tick. Clearly a tick. Amanda did not know anyone else who till rolls , also known as receipt rolls so loved as she was those very white from smooth, wood-free paper . The ivory- colored , rough . And even those misty-gray from recycled paper.
She remembered exactly by how they - at that time she was still a little girl with long braids - for the first time was in his hand . Mother was working a substitute, in the village consumption , and because there was no nursery place for Amanda , she waited in the little cubbyhole behind the sales floor to the shop closing . On the small , old round table , the mother put her one of those roles. So they do not get bored . The mother also put crayons in addition to the role . At that time it had begun. Amanda tucked the white paper roll in her little bag, and found the same: For painting she was much too good . For Amanda was certain: If she could only write more than her name loudly, would have letters on the paper , only for it seemed to her right and made .
Amanda studied Business Administration . Although , of course, long since it was clear that she wanted to be a writer , what else would she collect all this cash register rolls . Every self-earned holiday in the Euros they had put in this passion. It had to be procured a supply .
The idea once to have time all these white , gray , yellow stripes with words , letters - to fill with that message for so long needed , was for Amanda barely noticeable to life purpose. Only once they had tried it , the real writing.
In the 11th Class she had dared . The task was to write his own lyrics . Whether poem or short story. The work on the text was hard. Amanda wrote , stroked , tore off a piece from the roll , burned the scraps and put new on . With no text she was satisfied . Soon half a meter of the paper was just left. Finally , she thought, everything is finite.