Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia. ~E.L. Doctorow
I always find I feel most inspired as I walk around this city or on the metro when my thoughts are high above the clouds. Then when the daily dose of reality begins, my mind forgets.
I have been telling myself to get a diary for a while now, to keep a more personal record of these experiences I am living here. My best lines tend to come to me while I am in the midst of working, school or a time when I cannot sit down to write it out.
The other day I stumbled upon a store called FNAC, France’s equivalent to a Barnes and Noble’s, and found a blank paged, black journal that I absolutely fell in love with. The first page is a map of the world, in which I have marked the places I have been to. The rest I have begun to fill with my thoughts, emotions, ideas and so forth.
I have always been told that writers always carry paper and pen. In this day and age, I always said I had my phone. There is something more personal and touching to something hand written, where I can scribble, paste tickets, receipts and pictures. Somewhere that I feel I can completely express my thoughts and emotions without being interrupted by notifications and phone calls.
I am absolutely in love with my little black book that I carry everywhere.
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