Epistolic
2020 09 01
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etc
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2024 +
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I miss writing letters, and getting them. There's an irreplaceable kind of joy in coming home to proper mail, a thick packet of letter and photos and little things. I appreciate the positives of the immediacy of email, but it's not the same. As personal as they can be, and as detailed, there's still something missing from email, like the difference between holding a book to read it as opposed to a reader. I think there's a trick of the mind that ensures we see tangible things as less disposable.
It would make me enormously happy to get a letter again.