Hi, I'm Jane.

I'm 27, and I live in a small apartment in Portland with too many plants and a cat named Brontë — yes, like that Brontë.

I grew up in a small Vermont town where the library was the only place open past six. So the library is where I grew up, really. That's where I fell for books.

By day I work at an independent bookshop. By night I read slowly: one chapter, a pot of tea, phone face-down. My favorite thing in the world is a slow reading night — candles lit, rain sounds on, pencil in hand, annotating in the margins, refusing to rush a good book.

I love literary fiction, old classics, and moody autumn reads. And every winter, secretly, I reread Jane Austen.

This journal is the ritual I built for myself. I'm glad you're here.