An Old Broken Bag

Drawn via SNote

As an artist and a writer, I’ve always had a strong relationship with notebooks and sketchbooks. It’s a relationship that has never wavered in intensity over the years, despite the specific object of my desires changing.

I remember, when I was a lot younger, lying in bed about to go to sleep and, whenever I had an idea for a story or something of that ilk, the lamp/light would go on and I’d grab the (always easily accessible) notebook, the fluffy purple Tracy Beaker pen, and I begin scribbling. It was a romantic idea; scribbling fantasies at silly o’clock in low lighting when I should have been asleep.

It was always the same when out and about. I find it really difficult to leave my house and, on occasion, my room without a pencil and a sketchbook and/or notebook with me, and when on a bus I’d usually whip it out and write or draw to my heart’s goshdarn content, but… Recently…