the lost love language
With so much in the world constantly moving forward, there is a quiet longing to return to older ways of being. To acts that feel simple, analogue and reassuringly nostalgic: the glow of candlelight, the weight of a 35mm camera in hand, owning the vinyl of a much-loved album, or sitting down to write a letter. Today, few people reach for pen and paper to share spontaneous thoughts with friends and family. Our phones, ever-present, offer instant connection, while slower, more tactile forms of communication gently fade from use.
And yet, there is a particular joy in handwritten words. To receive a note in this way feels deeply personal, a small but deliberate act of care. It speaks of time taken, of intention, of a pause made in someone else’s day for you. Seeing another’s handwriting, knowing they carefully chose their words, stamped an envelope and sent it on its way, creates a connection that feels quietly profound. It arrives without notification or expectation, and in doing so, feels all the more meaningful.
It is for this reason that we love Jacki Morris’s Unwinding Cards. Each time I open the box, I find myself lingering over the paintings, selecting one that feels right for the person I am writing to. The collection is filled with atmospheric watercolours of animals and landscapes. With one hundred postcards to choose from, there is always an opportunity to send a small note of love, a gentle reminder to someone that they are in your thoughts.
