Setting: modern day. In an age of emails and texts and Tinder flirtations, the archaic act of handwriting is almost akin to crafting a love letter, even if to oneself.
When I was younger, I (inconsistently… unsurprisingly) kept a journal. My diaries spanned multiple spiral-bound/lock-and-key-secured journals. My handwriting has seen better days, but even today, represents years of experience with left-handed ink smudges.
In an attempt to “keep it real” as the currently-adapted say, I’ll take my Intimates posts back to those romantic and wistful times when handwriting was all I could do. I present you with the first official post in my Handwritten subseries. Enjoy.