“The act of writing itself is like an act of love. There is contact. There is exchange too. We no longer know whether the words come out of the ink onto the page, or whether they emerge from the page itself where they were sleeping, the ink merely giving them colour.”- Georges Rodenbach, The Bells of Bruges

Those who grew up penning letters know what went into writing one. It was an act of transferring one’s thoughts and a bit of one’s soul through the ink on paper. Whether it was a letter between lovers or between parent and child or siblings or penpals, it was a personal creation that carried the emotions of the sender to the receiver. You could perceive the mood of the sender and, to an extent, even their health based on the quality and legibility of the writing.

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