For the longest time I didn't keep a journal. I used to write one religiously, but somehow it began to feel like a burden, and the pages so heavy with emotion I decided it best to let it all go. But this March, after some five years of not keeping any type of personal account of the goings on in my life, I found myself drawn back to it. I made myself a small journal that fits even in my smallest purse - quite plain and simple, but with a splash of colourful oversized floral patterns on the endpapers.

The pages are 100% recycled paper: rough just the way I like it, and with imperfections that help me get over the imperfections of my handwriting that goes from tiny squiggly ants to messy reeds depending on my mood. The dark teal and sea-foam book cloth are a recent purchase, but I doubt I'll use either on the books I sell as it seems the starch coat finish of the cloth is pretty prone to both staining and overall wear. I've used this journal for a bit under two weeks now and its finish is in pretty rough condition already. I don't mind it in this case, but the quality isn't up to par with what I like to offer in my shop, even though there are always people who enjoy the distressed look...

Next up on my bookbinding to-do list are some small Coptic bound journals with leather spines, and some new bullet journals, too. On the mixed media front it appears there's an odd body of work emerging - a bit moody and haunting. I'm curious to see what comes next...