Levenger customer escapes with no questions asked

I’ve always admired the Levenger catalog.

I’ve fantasized in its writerly pages and imagined the life of a serious author that I, well, could only imagine. I even bought my Dad one of those fancy birds-eye maple journals for a birthday present once. I remember he said it was so beautiful that he didn’t think any words he wrote in it could do it justice. In the end, he only ever wrote a few pages, but I treasure that journal now that he’s gone for its natural beauty and his short reflections, recorded in his own hand (which precious few can read).