I find it both exasperating and exhilerating to start a new sketchbook.
I am aware of the places I will go, the ideas I will have, the inspiration, the magic that will be housed in those pristine uncharted pages.
But I feel sorrow having to put aside the book currently filled with the same. A chronicle of where I have been, classes taken, ideas hatched, lists made, and sketches… I will miss the former book as an old friend that has moved away.
Here’s to odeas and inspiration. And thoughtful musings on this grey autumn day.