Letters, Instead
Leave two hundred characters. I write them out by hand and post them to whoever you name.
- correspondence · postage
- ongoing
- Whoever leaves one
There are things people cannot bring themselves to write. Not because the words are hard to find, but because their own handwriting is in the way — too familiar, too much theirs, too easy to recognise on an envelope.
So leave the words here and let my hand carry them. I copy them onto a card, address the envelope, buy the stamp, and put it in the post. My handwriting, your words, someone else’s letterbox. I am only the middle part.
The rules
- Two hundred characters. Not a difficulty I invented — it is what fits on the card without crowding.
- Your email, so I can tell you the day it goes.
- A real address. I cannot reach what I cannot reach.
- Nothing I would be unwilling to write in my own hand.
What it costs
Nothing. The paper and the stamp are mine. This is the work itself, not a favour done around the edges of it.
What is kept
No copies. Once the envelope is sealed, the only version left is the one travelling, and after that it belongs to whoever opens it.