Letters, the original vintage.
Last week, I received some unexpected mail from a very old and dear friend. ‘Twas not your regular source of next generation mail. It was, in fact, an actual physical piece of paper laden with Ink and scented with cologne. It was wonderful.
Since this little piece of wonderment first rested in my hands it has instigated an illusive train of thought – have we truly forgotten the joy of turning a key into that iconic box that hides a personalised message? Perhaps Financial entities have tainted our perception, I cannot count how many ANZ envelopes have gone to ‘a better place’ unopened.
You cannot tell me, though, that when you see a hand written address you don’t get just a tinge of excitement. It may be brief, as more often than not it is an invitation to a mandatory life event disguised as a celebration. A ‘celebration’ that will illicit a blank expression and a two step thought process. One: How much is this going to cost me? Two: Is there any legitimate reasoning I have to get out of this? You know what I’m talking about.
This is in no way an attempt to denounce technology. Without it, I could not possibly feed my social media addiction. I’ve realised of late that my fingers are now certified black belts in the art of iphone scrolling. Tap, flick, smooth scroll, fast scroll, like, mentally dislike, accept, ignore, all play a part in my daily routine. However, the wave of contentment and momentary sense of peace that letter gave me cannot be surpassed or, ignored.
In a world utterly consumed by status updates, check-ins, tweets, Instagrams, emails, phone calls, texts, skype sessions… shit, have I missed any?! It is moments like these that remind you that there is a life beyond the cyber and cellular boxes. To know that for a brief moment a simple piece of paper could create such a connection between two old friends is priceless (thanks mastercard).
It has become abundantly clear to me that the world needs to write more letters, if only, to create more moments. I will be investing in some stationary this weekend, I promise I won’t even instagram it.