Yesterday when I was writing at one of my favorite coffee shops on the island (and one my my favorite places in general) I noticed an open journal on a coffee table. The journal itself was a work of art, but what truly made it special we’re the contents. I’d never stoop to reading someone else’s personal journal without their blessing, however, with the pages open I caught a glimpse of detailed sketches and painstakingly written notes that were simply breathtaking. I rarely keep nice notebooks because rarely are my own notes and art anywhere near nice. In a way I don’t feel like my chicken scratch is worthy of the journal. This young woman’s was. Beyond any shadow of a doubt.

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