I guess it had to happen sooner or later: last night I found a journal on the beach. There was no one around. It was fat and waterlogged. Should I pick it up? I had another mile or two to walk.
The first phrase my eye fell upon was this:
How can I be true to my self, and let Serge be true to his self?
I was hooked. I picked it up and carried it all the way home. It weighed a ton and spurted water as I walked. As it dries out I'll read more and maybe I'll illustrate it.
p.s. Names have been changed, but if this is your journal let me know and I'll leave it on my front porch for you to pick up.