text and image britt-arnhild
The other day I filled the last page in my old diary. Purple Italian leather, so smooth it felt like a beloved´s skin. Page after page filled with my life. Words from the deepest of my heart. Lists. Sketches. Notes. Smiles. Frustrations.
Easy words to find to capture the best moments, harder those words which helped me come to terms with frustrations.
I have already started a new diary. Black this time, in a green cover with dragonflies. I found it in a tiny, remote town in Western California. Too expensive, but Terje saw my eyes when I looked at it, my fingers when I touched it, and for two months now it has been on my desk, wating for my words.
Several pages are already filled.
Again some memories. Something I had to have to come to terms with. Questions I am trying to answer. Life must go on....
........
Ever since I learned to write at 5, my diary, my journal has been my best listener. I still have the first diary I wrote. Then there is a gap for almost 15 year, but from then on I have saved them all.
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I am up early this morning.
Too early.
The black book with the green dragonfly cover is my early morning companion.
I have something to come to terms with.
It will take longer than one early morning,
but the thoughts formed into words right now helps me to find the right path to follow into the day,
into days to come, into the rest of my life.
