I have been working in this journal and completed my first page on the 19th January 2010. It feels very strange that I have now finished it - apart from the odd touch up here and their as I get new toys to play with of course. It has been a strange trip, some of the pages have lot of meaning and vent lots of anger, some are just pretty and fun. I have very mixed feelings about this book, its only a book but it has come everywhere with me for almost 2 years. Not sure why I feel strange but I do, maybe a page for my next journal ehh?