notebook

 My favorite part of the day has become that moment when I slip in between my white cotton sheets to scribble contentedly into the cream coloured pages of my Moleskine notebook. It has become my best friend, we stay up late at night chatting about the day, my worries and deepest feelings. I tell it stories and draw it pictures, tell it about the funny man at the cafe who always winks at me as he makes my caffellatte, about the stupid soccer boy who has become my mortal enemy, about how much I love Able and how I miss my friends. I fold my favorite emails from Able and Bekah between its pages to read when I get lonely and doodle pictures of steamy cups of thick cioccolato, my favorite drink at the cafe.Writing has never been such a pleasure or a comfort and I will be at it again tonight after much reading of Livy and Machiavelli.