In my final year as an art student I obsessively sharpened pencils as I struggled to make my Final Major hand-in. This sharpening was a means to an end. I owned 11 electric sharpeners, each had a distinct sound and I hated them all. Now, some time later, I'm still haunted by this sound. Late at night, I'll put the recording on. It's possible that this is self-inflicted torture.
