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I have been thinking a lot lately, perhaps even too much. I am in a phase of reorganising my life, and I thought it was better to start with a small step such as tidying up my room. We, those of artistic nature are sometimes thought to be somewhat messy, chaotic, disorganised, “bohemian” or any other adjectives to describe our somewhat absent-minded spirit. Well, even we sometimes need a little bit of order in our lives.

I was doing an inventory of all those objects I have been hoarding in my one and twenty years of existence when I found in a bureau, among other things, letters and letters that I have received since I was a little girl. I started to open each of them and read them. It was almost funny how much I used to love to interchange a few word with the friends of my youth, my first love or even just a simple Christmas card from my grandparents. We talked about everything, we talked about nothing. But what I do remember is the hope, the thrill that I experienced while I was writing those missives.

I used to wake up really early just to check the mailbox and see if there was any scrap of paper awaiting for me.

I love to write, I have quite a passion for it as you can see in all the nonsense featured in this blog. I do not why, I do not when I stopped writing all these letters. I truly miss it.

Handwriting involves putting a little bit of yourself with each word linked, a small part of yourself that gets you near to the one that receives the letter. In this era of blatant dependence on technology I really wish that instead of using ” Times New Roman” or ” Arial Courier”, we simply started using our own distinctive handwriting.

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