Handwritten Finds & The Dying Art of Ink

I love handwriting, a pastime I enjoy greatly. Also a dying art! I love nothing more than finding handwritten pieces, be it tucked in books or found on shelves. It fascinates me, like glimpsing into others lives.

I also miss the days when letter writing was a prominent part of communication. And that feeling of anticipation upon waiting for the Post Man to arrive. The envelope, the post mark, a revealing of secrets. Little gifts and hand developed photos. All of which I miss greatly. Such excitement for the price of a stamp!

Who ever wrote the beginnings of this poem (?) I wish they had written more. It was found in the pages of a book I brought.


And this, a diary I brought, upon first glance seemed blank… and hidden in pages, words…

In a box much like Pandoras, I found the diary of a woman who wrote in partial or on occasion. She wrote of her Grandparents decades befor. Of her lover, or of a man who didn’t love her back. And of a studio she’d created by hand and a dream she’d once had.


And so I wrote my own lines in this find. Then left it on a book swap table. Maybe someone else sat and pondered over our words, adding words of their own perhaps.

And so I continue with words, filling up journals, handwritten scribbles and notes on pages…

Musings, clues, times and places.

A tell tale signs of a life I once lived. Join me, connect, feel what I feel and walk in my steps.

Pen words of you own, in ink, for people like me…


Tell me, what’s your story…