When people know you like to write, they tend to buy you journals.
Leather journals with slick pages.
Journals that just scream for important words.
I have journals from museum shops, from bookstores around the world, and from very snazzy stationery shops.
I have journals covered in green suede and journals that look like they belonged to Charles Dickens.
They are all beautiful and precious - and they all scare the heck out of me.
Which is why I always end up dusting off and admiring the beautiful journals and then scribbling my words in one of these
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3 comments:
Dare I guess what those comp. books will go for in, say, a hundred years from now?
Very likely a contribution to recycling,
How was Sea World? I will have to check your blog!
Don't ask me why but I like the composition books with graph paper, but some of the journals are too pretty to touch with a pencil and never a pen...
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