Here’s someone who has just finished one Moleskine sketchbook and is about to start another:

I love what she wrote about using her notebooks:

I carry my moleskine almost everywhere I go — it’s my calandar, it’s my reference book, it’s my crossword-puzzle-holder, it’s my playground,it’s my portfolio, it’s my storybook, it’s my notebook, it’s my refuge, it’s my science lab, it’s my hospital, it’s my diary. I’m not sure what I did before my discovery of these sketchbooks, and I can never see myself without one. They’re beyond just sketchbooks to me, they’re complete extensions of myself, where I can be un-selfconcious and immediate and unreserved. Some magic happens in these books that I never quite expected — and as I unwrapped the fourth moleskine I’ve ever owned, the transformation that these books go through becomes strikingly obvious. The white edges of the pages collect finger grease, city grime, or purse detritus – the book swells and the covers bend to accommodate. The front has been carved into, the back was used as a gouache palette once. Compared with the pristine new book, the one I’m shelving truly does look worse for wear. It has acquired a lot of miles in this past year and I’m proud it shows.

I also like her artwork:

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