I miss the handwritten letters and the days of writing letters at my desk.
I miss the days when I wrote letters, and we have far more time than now. The letter is written, sent out, two or three days, five or six days, in order to reach the recipient's hands. The recipient read the letter, and if I reply immediately, it will take the same amount of time to return to my hand. From the moment I sent the letter, I began to wait and hope. I imagine how happy or happy or gratifying the expression would be when the other person reads my letter. I recall that the words in my letter are all right. Maybe somewhere can be expressed more strongly and I didn't think of it at the time, I will have a slight regret. I imagined the other person's thoughts and expressions when he opened the paper pen and prepared to give me a reply. Maybe he wrote it once and felt dissatisfied and then wrote another paper and pen and wrote it again. Maybe he stopped and sank from time to time, and at that time he was in his heart. Most of the thoughts are related to me and the characters and stories that we are familiar with, and it is more likely that he will stop the unspeakable emotions.
Although the letter can not be immediately read by the recipient, but the letter has been sent out will no longer belong to me, my heart is full of secret expectations, every minute and second has become a taste, it is worth repeating. Although I don't know when the recipient will reply to me, I am willing to wait, although waiting sometimes seems to be long-term, but at the same time I also hope to add color to the original plain time. I miss the time when it was much slower and more intriguing. I think time is really a relative measure. At that time, we had more time than now. We have a much longer life than we have now.
I miss the much broader space and farther distances in the days of writing letters. Without speed, the area becomes wider. People who need to communicate with each other are hundreds or even thousands of kilometers away. This distance is not worth mentioning for today's transportation, and it is more like today's means of communication. But at that time, this distance brewed the wine that missed. The accumulation will be deep and the isolation will be strong. The farther apart the body is, the more mourning and remembering, the more passionate the heart is. Although I can't meet each other, I can only use letters to communicate the status quo, but the heart and the heart are closely connected. Although they are thousands of miles apart, they cannot be separated. Moreover, the distance brings a sense of triviality and friction. On the paper is the most important thing and the most urgent feeling. People and people will be inevitable when they get along with each other, but there are meaningless conflicts and disputes that have lost their habitat. That person may have a character or a faction that you don't like so much, because the distance is also not critical, can be forgiven and ignored. Life is like Chinese classical landscape, freehand, atmosphere, and space.
Letters and words written on paper are more concise and discreet than words spoken casually. Unlike the information on the chat tool, or the text message that will be seen by the other party on the mobile phone, it is easy because it is as light as the air that is exhaled. Those words are mostly boring products, rarely through the brain, and even more difficult to touch the heart. The chattering and unpredictable feelings that kill time are lost when they are beaten, that is, when they are said, and they disappear without a trace. The people who say those words do not care what they have said. However, the words written on paper by pen and ink are different. Once the text is returned to the paper, it has a form, and it has life and soul. The person who wrote the letter must revitalize the body and concentrate on it. Just like writing an essay that can get a high score, he must sum up his own thoughts, make his own conclusions, and improve his own realm. At the same time, he must find the most appropriate and euphemistic. The most sincere and accurate word to express what he wants to pour or what needs to be discussed. The letter he wrote becomes a lonely book that will not disappear for the writer and the recipient, and becomes the seal of the life and the seal of time that can be read in the hands and read again.
In the face of stationery, emotions and thoughts have become introverted and calm. The letter sent is like an arrow that is shot, and the bow will not turn back. Then, after careful consideration, the anger will be resolved, the misunderstanding will be forgiven, the impulse will become calm, and the passion will become deep. Moreover, there is still the brewing and appeasement between the time of sending out the letter and receiving the reply. The rain like the pour slowly penetrates every inch of soil, and the subsidence will surely subside. The germination will eventually sprout, but it will not be rash and easy, and will not scribble. And arbitrary. Faced with stationery, emotions and thoughts are not the tap water that is hand-switched, but the clear spring water of the deep pools of the mountains. It is not the love that rushes to the scene and ends in the grass, but the true feelings that are always unswerving.
All I want is to go back to that day. What I want is to throw away the phone, throw away the computer, and avoid so many instant and round-the-clock information that is worthless. What I want is to escape from such a life that is too fast and lacks imagination, too convenient and cherished. This over-developed communication and traffic is always pulling the distance between me and the people I love, diluting the feelings between me and the people I love. In this way, I would rather return to the days of writing letters.
I would rather return to the past, spread out stationery, narrative, miss, imagination, hope.