I love that the word matchbook has "book" in it.
It's an envelope of tiny surprises that hiss and flare and bring small magic. I love the foldover cardboard cover, and the family of upright white or red-headed people in their tidy home.
I learned to light a fire with sturdy kitchen matches. The first time I lit a flimsy paper match, I worried about moving my fingers fast enough away from the flame. Scared I'd get burned.
The confidence of doing this new thing was a pocket-sized thrill.
What was your first encounter with striking a match? How do you experience starting a fire?
Even more importantly, when do you allow yourself the pleasure of lighting the matches of your creative ideas?
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