Yesterday, I was lucky enough to find these at a vintage and collectable goods fair:
a bag full of patterns
and a book-full of poems. Over one hundred years old. I felt funny carrying such a beautiful relic in my bag on the way home. Since buying it, I’ve looked at it over and over. I love the small details:
the beautiful end papers
the olde worlde writing conventions, and the red border around each page.
(I wonder how many other hands have held it?)