sublimatedangel | (no subject)

So the other day when I was looking for recipes, I stumbled across one in a journal-that-is-not-livejournal. And while the recipe wasn't what I was looking for, the author drew me in and sat me down with a warm cup of coffee, chatting in a way that made me comfortable and natural, peaceful and at home. She didn't mind my shyness and drew me out of my shell with gorgeous photos of flowers and birds, her easy candor washing over me in waves until I felt I'd known her for a very long time. I'm currently working through the year 2002 with strong suspicions that I'd like to read the previous years too. Maybe I'll even write to her and tell her how much I enjoy reading about her days and appreciate the mix of recipes, beauty, inspiration, and common sense she's woven into what she writes.

I don't know why it should be so, but sometimes strangers seem more familiar than anyone else.