My Moleskine.

"I first saw my pretty moleskine at the shop where I had began working. It instantly caught my attention, as I always looked around for possible new notebooks to purchase. I used my notebooks for all kind of things; sometimes for drawing, when I felt the words I had wanted to write had lsipped my mind.
Sometimes I wrote whole scenes in my notebooks, while I travelled by train; caught in short stories that had sprang to mind just like that. I would enjoy the feeling of my pen scribbling on the paper, the sight of my neat, unique handwriting while I told the tale I wanted to tell.

But all the notebooks I had purhcased were big; big was better, was my train of thought. I carried those large notebooks around in my leather backpack, even though I usually didn't write more than half an hour a day, while those notebooks got heavier and heavier. I didn't even write whole scenes, sometimes all I wrote was a sentence, an idea.
And as I quite school, I found I no longer carried my backpack around all that much, and my notebooks were often left at home while ideas swam through my mind, while I had no paper to write on. I felt the most brilliant scenes and alinea's sliding through my mind, into nothingness; gone forever.

And then, I saw the moleskine notebook. 14 x 9 cm. Black, stylish. Three in one pack. Curious, I bought such a pack, excitedly opened it at home where I first felt the touch of the acid free cardboard cover. The soft feeling of the quality rich paper. I admired the straight lines, eagerly grabbed my favorite pen, and wrote my adress on the first page.
My pen glided on the paper, it soared. My handwriting was smooth, perfect. I had found the perfect notebook.
It travelled in the pocket of my favorite coat, in the back pockets of my trousers. I got it out whenever I walked the dogs, whenever I was walking in the city, or at the library, the supermarket, at home watching television. Whenever I had a great idea, I immediatly wrote it down on paper.

The Moleskine has been a true saviour, it has saved numerous ideas, sentences, names, notes; it has been a constant companion ever since I bought it.
And I still have two more tiny notebooks left to use!

Oh the wonder, what will I ever do without a moleskine in my pocket?
Ode to my moleskine, the best invention ever made. My companion, my saviour.
I do love you."

I love talking crap in the evening.
It does make me wonder. Why can I put this on paper in mere minutes, while it takes me days, weeks to finish one chapter of a story?
I'm so odd.

I need more moleskines.