The ones in leather cover, or at least imitation.
The new ones, with paper smelling like trees, opened for the first time, to start a whole story. From the beginning.
Because of what is happening every day, because it’s about the present.
As we try to freeze it, or to relive, in a notebook.
It’s all what we have, what we are…
Put in a tangible shape.
“Forever is composed from Nows”
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