While I ate a breakfast of homemade pesto, smoked cheese and tomato on toast, I thought about notebooks and how we love to fill them, and on emptying ourselves into them we become somehow fulfilled. Those notebooks are like little treasures that we can mine later. Imagine then, you are to be transported to a desert island and the only personal possession you are allowed is one notebook. This, and only this notebook would accompany you through your remaining life. How would you prepare your notebook for the journey? Would you fill it retrospectively or would you dedicate the next few months before your abandonment to filling the notebook? If so, what would it contain? Without giving too much away, this is essentially the idea behind my novel The diary of magnificent things. I am curious to know how (dis)similar our notebooks would be.
Here are some things I would include:
- Quotes from favourite authors/books such as Stephen Jay Gould, Jorge Luis Borges, Dickens, Alberto Manguel
- an account of a sunrise from my front veranda
- my best memories
- lyrics to songs and even music sheets (living without music – ouch!)
- Photos pasted into the notebook
- Dried leaves and flowers
- my rusted metal Kokopelli (it’s flat so would fit between the pages nicely)
- a star chart
- pieces of fabric
What would yours include? You can have anything so long as it in the pages of that notebook.