moleskine

I have a lot of moleskines.

Call me pretentious. Call me a hipster (dear god don’t call me that). Fuck, call me a follower, but there is just something about them. It’s not the “supposed” connection to da Vinci or anyone else famous. It’s the texture, the feel of the paper. They’re the perfect size.

I buy them and I buy them. Even though I have plenty at home, unused, I still buy more.

My wife leaves me little notes (usually somewhere in the middle). Small things that make my day when I find them. Sometimes it takes me a while to find them, but when I do it never fails to touch me.

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