My sweet sweet box of journals:  the lined green leather one from Greece, the one composed of napkins stapled together, the uniform French Claire Fontaines.  Of course the contents of these charming tomes is anything but sweet. Who writes about the good times?  Yet there is this wonderful undercurrent of hope and delight in the beauty of monuments.  When I open the present volume I am humbled by the fact that it is #87; my hunch is there’s a bit of repetition in these pages!  But the quotes!  What great authors have accompanied me on this journey.  My sweet, sweet journals.  Begun my junior year in college in Greece where my real birth occurred, their presence has meant that I have never been alone.  Every trip I take begins and ends in these pages.  They hold my past like no photographic record ever could.  They make the past present,  the present past, the future a clean white page.