A transparent mould

I asked, after three years of writing this blog, why I do it, a question I have never answered to my satisfaction. I am reading Virginia Woolf's diaries. and came across this statement:

'What sort of diary should I like mine to be? Something loose knit and yet not slovenly, so elastic that it will embrace any thing, solemn, slight or beautiful that comes into my mind. I should like it to resemble some deep old desk, or capacious hold-all, in which one flings a mass of odds and ends without looking. I should like to come back, after a year or two, and find that the collection had sorted itself...into a mould, transparent enough to reflect the light of our life."

I doubt I could ever achieve such a transparent mould, but it is worth trying, though up until now I have excluded the personal. I may reconsider that exclusion.

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