I still have my first diary, filled with the grammar and spelling mistakes of a child. I have kept a journal since those days. Sometimes writing more than others, sometimes needing to record things, sometimes picking up my journal only to paste in a picture or press a leaf.
My journals have been expensive and cheap. They have been plain and beautiful, marbled books brought in Venice, black Moleskines brought in Prague, vintage exercise books found at my Grandmothers house.
And yet, none of them have been so beautiful or so special as the one I have now.
My dear twin sister made this book for me. She brought the paper, printed quotes, folded, stitched and glued together this amazing journal. It is so thoughtfully made by someone who knows me more than anyone.
Thank you dear Fiona.
I love it.