The Art of Letter Writing is dead. Maybe not dead, but definitely dying. Technology has been clubbing it to death for years. First it was the telegraph, then telephone, then computers, and then caught up in the whirlwind, everything got even faster. While it's lovely to hear someone's voice, or see their face with the wonders of Skype and FaceTime, I would argue that it lacks intimacy.
There is something very special about finding a letter waiting in the mailbox, the excitement bubbles up as you hold a letter in your hands that someone has taken the time to consider and compose. To know they touched the same paper as you run your finger over words of love, to see a stain where a tear once fell, to see how their handwriting deteriorated as the message grew more impassioned, to know that you can relive all that just by opening the envelope again and again, whenever you choose, is a wondrous thing. For those moments shared in a letter you are together, even though you're apart.
Letters are keepers of the past where our histories live. I'm saddened by their slow death. I wish I could breathe life into them once more.
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