First Paragraph of An Unfinished Story After Buying The Wrong Kind Of Notebook
Even this paper is wrong. In this “sketchbook” the pages are thick and acid-free, meant for those who can draw, whose eyes see shadow and form, whose fingers can render light and shape. Not a storybook, not a journal, not slated for ideas or scenes nor such a heavy pen, I should start my tale elsewhere. Here even what words I might get right will fade, set down where they do not belong.