I suffer from following a lost art. As a small child I owned a feather quill and an ink bottle. I would sit at my desk dip the quill in the ink and begin to write. I did not care that my entire hand would end up black or that I would have to stop to dip the feather because I loved the beauty within a letter. With every dip into the ink I felt like my own blood was being taken from me and transferred to the paper. It was a life force being drawn out in front of me. It was for me a letter. A contract with another human being allowing them to hold onto this piece of my persona for eternity. I knew even as a young child that the letters would be like contracts for me. That no matter where I was in my life if someone were to present me with a letter I had sent them I would instantly remember and be brought back, at least in memory, and allowed a few seconds of time travel. At times it seems ridiculous to feel such a connection to an object but, I think why should a letter be any different than a contract. This blog is not so much for any particular individual. It is for all of those people that I have written to in my life and, to those I have not yet or, cannot anymore. "This is my letter to the world, that never wrote to me..."
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