dimension…) I had tried to develop a little project in order to give back a certain dose of effective dignity to so called “snail mail”.
I offered to write a hand written personal letter to all the people who would have liked finding in their real mailbox something a little different from a bill or various advertising.
The positive answer to my proposal was quite above my expectation.
So far I have written over 120 letters and I still receive new requests, which I intend to satisfy on regular basis.
It has been a bit demanding engagement, but also a very rewarding experience.
Writing to strangers helped me to put in discussion the usual too superficial relationship we adopt toward unknown people who casually share with us a moment of time.
I don't mean to say that we have to became extremely familiar and intrusive, asking questions to everyone we meet in a lift (by the way, have you already noticed how ill at ease the majority of people look during the short journey in a lift, when we have to share a limited space with strangers or people we only know vaguely by sight?), but I do think we don't need to feel uncomfortable, it can be so easy to simply say " Good morning" and to smile, just a little smile.
Writing to a stranger might work a little the same way.
It would be absurd to write about all our private matters or to ask for specific questions, but it's possible to have a slightly personalized "written conversation" based on subjects which are not necessarily related with our private life or the personal matters of the other person. The important element is trying to convey the impression we really want to have a "written conversation", not that we simply want to be listened as if our little daily events were the centre of the universe and everyone should be honoured and happy to know that we have done this and that.
I'm happy, nearly touched by realizing that people still appreciate to get a real envelope which arrives from a foreign country, an envelope which has travelled in a real dimension, taking the time for that, passing from
hand to hand...
We are so used to receive immediate information, to have instant short communication through Internet, various Social Network ( my troglodytic nature makes me a real profane about the mechanism and the purposes
of them and I have not any intention to get further in my approach to that parallel world) and to live in a fast dimension that maybe sometimes it's also refreshing to slip into a kind of slowness for not strictly necessary
Waiting for a real letter, written on real paper, with a real pen is a subtle and obsolete pleasure which is enjoyable to renew.
Paper is a frail support, but it's tangible, it can be kept inside a box, a drawer. All what is either written or simply printed on real paper changes colour, becomes yellow and a little worn out, but it gives also an idea of life, it involves not only the sight, but also other senses, the smell, the touch...
I'll keep on handwriting letters to all the people who ask me for that, it will take time, but time is the salt of life
for many things.
I'll keep on writing, then sticking stamps on an enveleope, than taking the envelop to a Post Office.
I promise, I will.