Mary Beth LaRue TAYLER CARLISLE I bought my firstMoleskine journal freshman year of college. The hard cover and smooth pages gave this organization-loving Virgo a jolt of excitement.
I tucked that notebook under my arm everywhere I went and would often post up in a coffee shop or late-night diner filling its once-blank pages with collegiate musings and big dreams.
This was the first of dozens of notebooks I’d come to fill, collaging photos cut from magazines or scrap postcards found at secondhand shops.
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