my dear,amitida

if i could leave something at your doorstep, i think it would be a little box of things that have no particular use: a postcard from a city neither of us has visited, a tiny seashell, a photograph with the date written on the back, and a note that says something terribly unimportant.

perhaps that is one of the loveliest things about being alive — that we get to care about things for absolutely no sensible reason. a particular shade of blue, a song heard through somebody else's headphones, the way the afternoon sun falls across a stranger's windowsill.

i hope your days are filled with such things. little discoveries that would sound silly if explained aloud, but somehow make perfect sense when kept to yourself.

and if you ever find yourself in a tiny bookshop on a street you've never walked before, with rain beginning to fall outside and nowhere in particular to be, i hope you stay a little longer than you intended.

buy a book you don't need. look at the postcards. invent a life for the person sitting by the window.

there is no hurry, after all.

the world will still be there when you leave, and the little things will have been waiting for you.

with affection, and a small seashell tucked between these text.
-𝒜𝓋𝒶