Today was a special day. I reached the last page of my notebook, and oh the joy of a new Moleskin. I fumble as usual peeling off the cellopane wrapper. The stiff black cover firm and reassuring fits snuggly in the palm of my hand, and the pure, pristine, white of the pages aches to be written on. The breathless anticipation as I hover over the first page with my pen, one hand holding the book open, my brow furrowed,thinking what to write? And then taking the plunge, the pen darts down to soil the creamy space with dark dark ink.
