Black, first. Then the green, laid over it the way light falls through a forest - in strips, unevenly, never twice the same. Between them, a grey that follows the light: in daylight it is almost silver, and towards evening it withdraws into navy.
I painted the leather myself, through a play of temperature and pressure, with a technique I found on my own over years at my table. There is no stencil and no repeat. The pattern happened once, under my hands, and that is where it stays.
Inside, a lambskin lining, soft to the touch. Three pockets within, two on the outside, and a holder for your pen, because some thoughts need to be written down the moment they arrive. A neodymium magnet closes it without a sound.
