In an age of instant messages and fleeting digital interactions, I found something rare—a true penfriend. Her name is Elise, and we began writing to each other three years ago after meeting on a small forum for book lovers.
Our letters travel between France and Canada, filled with stories about rainy afternoons, favorite novels, family recipes, and quiet hopes for the future. There’s a certain magic in waiting weeks for a reply, then holding real paper that carries someone else’s handwriting, tea stains, and sometimes pressed flowers.
We’ve never met in person, yet I feel I know her better than many people I see every day. Perhaps it’s because writing demands honesty, slowness, and attention—qualities often missing in modern communication.
This page is a tribute to our friendship and to the timeless art of letter writing. If you’ve ever had—or wanted—a penfriend, I hope this reminds you that connection can bloom slowly, beautifully, and across any distance.