Turning the pages of your moleskine notebook is always an enlivening experience. Turning pages on which you have already written or sketched or painted allows a reflective pause: so that was me?! Last week or last month. Or years ago. In London or Oxford or Tokyo or Munich or San Diego. That was me. Flicking forward through empty pages causes the mind to buzz; far better than any espresso doppio: the potential. The open prairie. The city at 5am. The board room. The playing children. The long highway. Yes: potential.
Turning.