I wrote this post in a lovely bakeshop in York on the last day of my second year of university. Afterwards, I wandered my city with my camera for a few hours, trying to find the words to express my gratitude and thinking about the beauty of the everyday. The following does neither justice, but I’m pressing publish all the same.

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I’ve a huge box inside my wardrobe back home overflowing with notebooks. From hardcover to softcover to ringbound to leather, in all colours and sizes and patterns, over the years I’ve collated an impressive collection. They’ve each got their own use, too, from story drafts to schoolwork to future plans. But whilst many of those are cringeworthy or pointless to look back on, the ones I always love rereading are my old diaries.

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Here’s a free-write on a Saturday afternoon about something that happened last night. Perhaps it’s more for me than for my readers, but actually I feel like blogging should work like that sometimes, if only in part, and perhaps one of you might have a similar experience or thoughts to share on burnout and anxiousness.

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