I while ago I read a book with a sweet story glued together entirely of letters (The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society). I finished it on a trip to my brother who lives in Stockholm, and I left it there, in his apartment. He picked it up, read it and (having grown up with e-mail in addition to be quite an eccentric art student) he got a bit obsessed with the thought of real, old time letters. So he writes to me on his typewriter (that he also uses in one of his art projects). Do you remember the worth of a letter like that?
Laying in the car seat between bills and magazines the letter was literally glowing like gold. I was driving home from town, but as I saw the letter sticking out from the mail my husband had put in the car before leaving home this morning, I pulled over and sat down to read. The warm fall sun made the newly cleaned leather car-seats smell a little extra leathery. The smell blended with a scent of dust and wax, as I opened the seal (!) my brother had closed the envelope with. I felt like I was holding and inhaling a treasure. I read his thoughts, smiled and wondered a bit, and really, fully enjoyed those minutes at an almost empty parking lot. The moment tasted like a dark and leathery wine - a whiff from the past with a present delight hitting the taste buds. I'll write him back, and I suspect I'll be enjoying it just as much as I enjoyed reading his letter.
(:
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