I stumbled upon these handwritten letters a little while ago. They were hidden in an old box in a local consignment shop. I was instantly drawn towards them, as I am with most vintage finds. They are brown, brittle, and dated 1931 – 1934.
My initial goal was to scan them – to use them as layers in my photographs, which I still plan to do. But as usual, when I get my hands on something that was once owned by someone else, it makes me stop and reflect and who that person might have been.
I have had these for a while now, and I haven’t read them in their entirety. Each time I begin to read, I stop myself. It feels as though as I am reading their diary, invading their privacy.
I’ll take my time. One day, when the time is right, I will read them. I’m curious to know about who this person was, and what their life was like over 70 years ago.
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