Part 62 of the 64-part series called "moon photos"
I found an old red page-a-day in a thrift store once and I bought it to write my own year in. But when I opened it I found that someone else had penciled their life on the pages: little things, like
appointment with M—- or
rain today, things that didn’t matter after all these years that’ve passed. They didn’t bother to write their name in the front either. I don’t know who they might be or where they might’ve lived but I know that on September 3rd, they had a doctor’s appointment, and on July 13th, their sister had a birthday. Their looping script, Spencerian style I think, means they lived in the first half of last century, but I’m not sure other than that. Of course, I don’t have the book in front of me. I’m actually not sure where it is. I’m making all this up, to be honest, that is, everything but the fact that there is a red diary somewhere, it was written on in pencil, and the person who wrote it is probably gone now, with only their one year to commemorate them.