I wrote postcards today. I just have to stamp them and pop them into a post box.
That moment is so intriguing, when the slippery plastic slips from your fingertips and falls into the dark mail system. The letter is so irretrievable, yet only a half a metre from your fingers. And again, they are just words. Just scribblings on paper, meaningless to half of the world, yet they have so much power over those who do read them. They can bind lovers, break lovers, bring news of sadness, joy and wonder. Today mine were just flippant remarks, idle small talk just to reach out and let my loved ones know I’m still here and thinking about them from time to time. Maybe they already know that, but I like to remind them.