letters

I wrote letters last night, handwritten, for the first time in a long time. It felt — fluent. I felt taken back to a more innocent time, a more whimsical, carefree self. I forgot that we write by writing, not by thinking about writing.

I’ve been troubled by a false need to make decisions about what I want to write, how I want to write (creatively).

When I sit down to write, out it flows and I’m taken to a different place.

Qualities of letters that gently assist

Ephemeral
Intimate
Rhythmical nature of handwriting, especially because there’s no stopping to edit