My Name is Mina

There''s an empty notebook lying on the table in the moonlight. It''s been there for an age. I keep on saying that I''ll write a journal. So I''ll start right here, right now. I open the book and write the very first words: My name is Mina and I love the night. Then what shall I write? I can''t just write that this happened then this happened then this happened to boring infinitum. I''ll let my jo...