I have not made it, or written it, nor have I seen it.
Well, I lied - I have seen it, but only in my mind.
I was walking towards the ocean, a plump yellow package tucked under my arm, that which contained a book I had made making its first leg of a journey to Canada.
That's when I saw it in my mind. The Book of Contemplation.
Have you ever read a book, that is so profoundly beautiful, interesting and magical that to turn the next page seems almost too much to bear, and that you might actually have to stop reading for a time, just to contemplate what you have read?
So, I figured books ought to be created with a blank page every so often, for one to contemplate.
Then I thought of my journals, all blank, all books to contemplate. No stories yet, I never know what they may contain, they never return to me. Until they are books to contemplate, they only have room to anticipate.
Anticipate the journey, await the hands which hold them; the minds which fill them.
These are among my thoughts, as I create, this Easter Friday.