I see the beginning of another year as though it were a new journal. An untouched, immaculate journal offering 365 silken, virgin pages waiting to be filled. Its leather cover soft, pliable and devoid of fingerprints. It is unmarked, raw and fresh, and cries out for words to be written upon it. Words of all types: kind words, angry words, sad words, happy words. Words of hope as well as words of despair. Words offering solace and words inflicting pain, even though we might not wish it to be so.
An unbiased witness, this journal awaits to capture life as we perceive it. To act as a steadfast friend offering us the ephemeral chance to write another chapter in our book of life. Perhaps even to rewrite a previous one so that we might yet give it the heretofore unattainable happy ending.
What words will we write in this new journal?
What words will this New Year make us write?