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I am sensitive to the small happy moments of everyday life, I have learned to recognize them, to welcome them, to keep a trace of them within me. I kept my very first notebook, which accompanied my fourteenth year—a notebook with large squares and a fluorescent green cover, very seventies! Others followed: they are all, notebooks and journals, gathered at my place in a large trunk. I have never counted them, but they are there as raw material, as the guardians of my memory, of my daily experiences and encounters. They hold the memories I might one day forget, and those I have deliberately tried to forget by putting them down on paper. Writing came as an obvious choice, a necessity in case of overheating: one can shout, get angry, sing, paint, run, sail... I write, and thus I rid myself and lighten up, or I engrave and give weight; I dialogue. With a pencil and paper, on a screen, it doesn't matter, the words are there. So when my friend Valérie challenged me to embark on daily writing, I decided to offer her a topic each day, to make her a journal where she would record this exchange, and we kept it up for 21 days... And I loved it! I designed samples, gave journals to others, and rediscovered the taste for creating and the thread I had lost. I set myself in motion to support those I love and also created a new professional activity for myself.
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Cindy Davenport, Cinport Floral Studio & Gift Designs by Cinport
Cindy Davenport, Cinport Floral Studio & Gift Designs by Cinport
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I am sensitive to the small happy moments of everyday life, I have learned to recognize them, to welcome them, to keep a trace of them within me. I kept my very first notebook, which accompanied my fourteenth year—a notebook with large squares and a fluorescent green cover, very seventies! Others followed: they are all, notebooks and journals, gathered at my place in a large trunk. I have never counted them, but they are there as raw material, as the guardians of my memory, of my daily experiences and encounters. They hold the memories I might one day forget, and those I have deliberately tried to forget by putting them down on paper. Writing came as an obvious choice, a necessity in case of overheating: one can shout, get angry, sing, paint, run, sail... I write, and thus I rid myself and lighten up, or I engrave and give weight; I dialogue. With a pencil and paper, on a screen, it doesn't matter, the words are there. So when my friend Valérie challenged me to embark on daily writing, I decided to offer her a topic each day, to make her a journal where she would record this exchange, and we kept it up for 21 days... And I loved it! I designed samples, gave journals to others, and rediscovered the taste for creating and the thread I had lost. I set myself in motion to support those I love and also created a new professional activity for myself.
