Before computers.
Before mobile phones.
Before instant messages and endless notifications…
We wrote letters.
At least, I did.
When I was younger, my friends and I were always exchanging handwritten notes, folded papers, tiny letters filled with secrets, drawings, memories, and silly conversations that felt important at the time. We kept small agendas and journals where we collected pieces of our lives — photographs, stickers, pressed flowers, tiny papers, and sometimes even paper money from places or moments we wanted to remember.
Those notebooks became little memory boxes.
We decorated them carefully, adding layers of who we were at that moment in life. It was never only about writing. It was about preserving feelings.
And somehow, even now, after all these years, I still carry that love with me.
There is something deeply human about handwriting.
The way someone presses the pen harder when they are emotional.
The tiny imperfections in the letters.
The fact that someone held that exact piece of paper in their hands… and now you are holding it too.
It creates a kind of connection that screens can never fully replace.
Today, everything feels immediate.
Fast messages.
Fast scrolling.
Fast reactions.
Sometimes I feel like we are all becoming exhausted by screens and constant digital noise. We read hundreds of words every day without truly feeling them.
I think we need to slow life down again.
To write to each other.
To tell stories.
To share ideas slowly.
To hold something real in our hands.
That feeling is the reason I started my mail club.
I wanted to create something more personal than a social media post. Something that leaves the screen and arrives physically to someone’s home like a small surprise from another world.
For the coming months, the theme of the club will be Egyptian dolls inspired by my paintings and memories. Every month, I will send a small collection that includes:
— A printed postcard of one of my artworks
— A bookmark
— Stickers
— And a letter from me
I love the idea that these envelopes will travel across different cities and countries carrying tiny fragments of art, stories, and human connection.
To be honest, I hesitated before starting.
Part of me wondered:
Would anyone even want this?
Because today everything is digital and instant, and sometimes handmade things can feel too quiet for this fast world.
But maybe that quietness is exactly what we need.
I realized that I didn’t want to create only products.
I wanted to create moments.
A reason for someone to open their mailbox with excitement.
A reason to pause for a few minutes.
A reason to collect memories again.
In a way, this mail club is not only about art.
It is about returning to softness.
To slowness.
To storytelling.
To human connection.
And maybe, through these letters, we can all remember what it feels like to receive something made with real hands, real thoughts, and real care.