my love affair with journal writing is something i can't explain. i don't remember my life before i had a journal. it comes from before i could write, before i could read. when i was 4 my mother would sit me down for a few minutes everyday and ask me to tell her what i was feeling about my day. and she would write it word for word in a little red diary. my first journal. from then on i always had a pen and paper and piles of books around me. my parents still chuckle, 40 years later when they see me with my ever present backpack or shoulder bag loaded with books and pens and paper and my journal and my camera. i am never without a pen and paper in some format. boxes of journals chronicle my life.
i've been making journals this weekend. beautiful old papers and photographs and letters and labels all converging on a moleskin book. they are really quite lovely. and i love making them.
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