On Journals, Part I: The Great Book Theft

I have never been able to keep a journal. Over the years, I have opened the blank pages of books bound in leather, decorated in faux gold leaf, or patterned in the kind of iridescent paisley marketed at teenage girls with disposable allowances. Each time, I began scribbling on their pages, intent that I would… Continue reading On Journals, Part I: The Great Book Theft