In a little hidden marketplace full of crumbly brick buildings and alleyways with clotheslines hanging across them, with tight cobblestone streets and tiny shops and stands all packed with bohemian gold, I found a blank book. It was bound like an actual book you would read, exept its pages were completely bank, devoid of even lines for filling. I was sure someone probably left it and forgot it, so I took it home with me.
The little book is pretty in an odd sort of way, with creamy tan pages and a little red chinese stamp on the back cover. I'm in love with it.
I guess it's my own damn fault for seeing a lonely blank book and immediately picturing the endless possibilities for what could fill its pages, and worse that sudden need to fill those pages myelf. But most terrible of all is that there are so many ideas buzzing around my head, I don't actually know what this blank book's destiny is to be.
Suggestion?
You don't have to put anything in particular in it. Just be spur of the moment and fill it with what you want to.
ReplyDeleteThe possibilities are endless, keep and open mind.
And by the way, I love this blog. So poetic and pretty. Imagery in a lovely thing and so are you.
<3
I really like that idea... I was kind of thinking that too. and thanks loveee
ReplyDelete