I found my old journal while I was cleaning
my bedroom the other day.
It's amazing how a couple of years can mean. (1) The things I used to love...the plans I used to have...has become a thing of the past. Reading through I was reminded of my old
self that I forgot whether by choice or due to time. Some parts need to be brought back..the others...I feel are no longer important.
"Letters are just pieces of paper," I said. "Burn them, and what stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish."
― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood
Still...under all those self-imagery some things stay the same. Right?
I still love the big blue sky...
the smell of paper &
books...