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Actually, I just wanted to post a short entry introducing a personal item from my daily life. This journal has been with me for ages and goes almost everywhere with me. The only reason it isn’t full yet is that, in addition to this one, I’m currently filling up at least four other journals at the same time. That’s my journal that used to be beige and now has such a greasy patina that you just want to hug it. The pages of this journal are unlined, and I collect moments in it: half-baked gestures of rebellion, fragments of thought—sometimes just a word, sometimes half a novel; sometimes as a diary, sometimes as a plain notebook. I already wrote a little bit about it here a very long time ago. This entry could end right here, and you’d have a few more minutes of your day (assuming anyone has even read this far). But while I was uploading the photo and writing the first few lines, something started working in my head. A much bigger story that wants to be told and shown than an almost…