I guess it all begins with the need to be able to tell someone something. A story, a memory, a favourite thing, a song that’s currently on loop, weekend plans, your disbelief on all that’s happening in the world, a difficult question to which the you already know the answer, a lie, an extravagant lie, travel plans, a secret that begins with ‘I haven’t told this to anyone but…’, someone else’ secret shared with vague details, THE story that everyone you know should know, something funny from the book that you’re reading, recipe to a no-bake, sugar-free cake, a profound thought that’s just so damn profound (mind = blown squared), favourite coffee brand and specific instructions on how to brew it, a weird dream, weirder thoughts, recommendations to a skincare product and how to use it, that quote you often allude to, the story of how you brewed your own perfect kombucha, sudden existential questions, that scene from a movie you love, that poem you’ve got memorised, the ridiculous thing that your dog did the other day, stories you overheard, the thing that happened to a friend’s sister’s classmate, a message from someone that was meant to be for someone else…

I may or may not write all of the above in my letters. Or I might just send you a hilarious panda video from the internet.

Dispatches every other Saturday. (Because Saturdays are when you have this sudden urge to change everything in this world and for a few hours you actually believe them to be possible.)

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Who am I?

(I won’t even pretend to know the answer to that question) But I used to work as a full time journalist and now I’m trying to become a tree. It’s a slooow process and that’s all I know on the topic for now.

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