pinkpunch
The journal had obviously been sitting up here for quite some time. I found myself snorting out snootful of dust as I climbed up the ladder to the attic. The binding was badly worn, but as long as I could read the precious contents, all would be well.
Daniel flipped through the vivid scenes depicted in glistening ink. He was only 12, but a camera hung loosely on a strap around his neck. He was going to make pictures like that too.