“Truly it is a wonderful event when someone takes time to compose a correspondence – not for a general email list – but with one sensitivity in mind.”
Letters to the world – Linda C. Ehrlich
I love handwritten letters. The content, the tactility of paper, the handwriting as a trace of someone’s personality, the wrapping up in an envelope and the traveling envelope connecting two places through an invisible thread. The envelope arrives wrinkled, scratched, stamped after its trip, is a story in itself of how two people are connected.
I found several love letters.
Four letters have pink envelopes and 1 letter has a beautiful off-white envelope. It is recognizable as a love letter because it says “pour mon poulet” on the backside.
The frontside of the 4 pink envelopes contain a short 2 sentenced poem. It is written with a fountain pen in blue ink on the lefthand corner and signed by the initials ‘AB‘. In the middle on the frontside the letter writer addresses his love with writings like: “Vas…., vers celle que j’aime” or “Pour Minouche que j’aime“. On the backsides of the envelopes, in the righthand corner, there is a little number legible. Apparently I have envelope number 1,5,9 and 16. I am not sure if this is the receiver or the sender or someone else who have numbered these envelopes.
The point of the “closing flap” has been marked by the initials AB, like a wax seal.
I can see that the letters have been carefully open-end with a sharp object by its receiver.
The first letter (no. 1) is written on Friday at 21.00 Chère Gisèle, the letter starts. It is man who has written this letter . He describes how he is in front of a photograph of her, her ring, objects that remind him of her and how her physical presence is missing right now. He continues for 4 pages how he loves her and needs her by his side. The size of the paper is determines his message.
When my grandmother died my family took several days to empty the huge house. Many wonderful objects, letters, photographs and books ended up in the garbage bin.
In between the rubble I managed to save a few letters written to my grandfather and my grandmother during the second world war as well as some letters sent to my great grandmother around 1890.
One of the letterwriters used a very special ‘letterwriting-technique’. Beautiful graphics are composed to save the space of the paper, but are hardly legible nowadays.