I write a lot. Maybe it has something to do with this whole introverted business. Every few months I put my final signature squiggle at the end of that last entry;
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~, (<— Like that, although maybe not so uniform!)
and then hungrily await a new day, and a fresh new page in a fresh new journal in which to record every logical and illogical thought of mine.
But, almost as much as I enjoy writing in one, I also enjoy shopping for one. I’m not much of a shopper in the first place, (Can I even call myself a woman??) but this little quest is certainly an exception.
I am a picky one, when it comes to my journals:
They must be lined.
Preferably no coils (pages come out too easily).
No side margins.
Bigger than pocket, but not too big for purse.
And of course, I just know…
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