"For us, our house is not insentient matter—it has a heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us with; and approvals, and solicitudes, and deep sympathies; it is of us, and we are in its confidence, and live in its grace and in the peace of its benediction. We never come home from an absence that its face does not light up and speak out its eloquent welcome—and we can not enter it unmoved."
—Mark Twain, 1896
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Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Journal entry

I
I’ve always loved to write letters.
Actual hand-written-on-Linen-paper letters.
I’ve always loved the anticipation of them.
Actually? In-wait for the post to be delivered.

I’ve always loved to ad-dress the envelope.
Actual one-of-a-kind doodles, mostly in pen and ink.
I’ve always enjoyed the personality of it all.
Actually? In-wait for your post to arrive……
~
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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I'm going to have to communicate through paper after all because I can't get through with fb either...Maybe it's for the best really, as I've taken a serious dislike to this form of contact, quick as it may be... and considering how often I take flight on these air waves, snail mail sounds lightning quick!!!
I'm thinking of you through my silence and miss you a little more than I had expected to..... I

Sunday, May 15, 2011 at 12:41:00 PM PDT

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