my book collection
I admit it.
I have an addiction.
I love books. Not the kind with words in them… the kind that are blank, that are just aching to be filled.
I love journal books. I love diary books. I love sketch books. I love notebooks. I love blank books.
I like them big and tiny, hard bound, soft bound, traditionally bound, spiral bound, white pages, coloured papers, designs, inspirational quotes, blank, lined, and quadruled.
Why?
That’s harder to explain… it has just ALWAYS been this way for me. From my earliest memories I have always ached to have paper with me (and pens, but that’s another entry).
I used to doodle at school, to keep my attention.
I used to write stories and poetry.
I used to chart things.
I don’t do these things anymore, and the books remain (for the most part) blank and unused. And yet the collection grows… from the huge 14″ x 17″ artist sketchbooks with the thick white paper, to the pocket sized Moleskine volants and the Yoga Cats note book, the collection contains anything interesing or pretty or intreging — anything that I find that I HOPE that will inspire me to doodle, draw, colour, scribble, write, note, chart, or otherwise spark the creativity that is currently locked inside me…
But don’t worry…
GirlChild is currently eyeing up the collection…
In her mind it is her inheritance… 
Good to know that the passion will be passed on…
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