I like words and the worlds they create. I grew up hiding there, behind books with words in them. At home, to be good was to be quiet.
I like handwritten letters. I remember writing them since I was about 7 years old. Writing home from grandma’s or the camp in the summer. Writing to the best friends who left, one after another. Writing home and to the best friends after I’ve left. Continue reading “Opening up through words, letters, and whatever else comes up”