Erina Vale
Letters

The occasional letter,
kept for a few.

Rare, considered, never noise — and never shared.

After hours
The city is finally quiet. Set the day down at the door; nothing here needs carrying.
A slow evening
You were not made to be needed by everyone. For this hour, let the world manage without you.
Late
Low light, a poured drink, the sound of your own breath slowing. Stay as long as you like.

The letters are not published anywhere. They arrive, and that is all they do — no reply is expected of you, and none is owed to you.

Leave an address

Receive the correspondence.

An address is all that is asked. The letters are infrequent and quiet, and yours is never shared.

Leave an address. Letters arrive seldom, and only when they should.