19 April 2012
I love an empty book, The blank pages aren't really empty at all. They are full of promise.
Each page a mystery, Dreams lay hidden behind the matt, white paper. Perfect and mine.
The dark ink spoils them. The marks can never meet the expectation Of the empty page.
Spoiled and untidy, A half filled book still has the chance to shine. Better than finished.
Opuss № I