I killed my notebook

I killed my notebook this week. My gorgeous Gloria Petyarre notebook that my Mumzy-in -law gave me for Christmas. I was just sitting there in a meeting, playing with the spiral spine and then the next thing I knew, the whole book had fallen apart.

Now I have no trippy Utopian art to gaze at during meetings. Instead it will just be a bull dog clip filled with book pages. This really messes with my chi.

Sob.

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