Letters from Florrie

Hello, dear friend. Since the last time I wrote you winter’s breath has come and left, and spring, in all her delicate blossoms, now whirls the air surrounding us. I have been noticing the earth bejeweled with petals fallen from the towering trees above. The mauve-coloured ones, of course, still enchant me the most. In the occasion of a gloomy sky they seem to gleam like little crystals sparkling softly above the wildgrass. I am still the very same person and completely new, all at once. The seasons do us wonders like that, if we’re not mindful enough. As for the reasons for my recent absence, worry not! I was merely lost. At times, between the pages of one too many books, at others, wandering the many mazes of my own little daydreams. And on occasion, I ventured far away from home, drawn into the calling for an adventure, as the heart of any curious girl is wont to do. There I encounted a swan lake, a tower to the stars, a little lamb lost from its flock, a champagne-coloured diadem, and a tall charming prince. Tell me, when was the last time you gathered all your things and set forth toward the great unknown? It is a calling I can scarcely resist and wholeheartedly recommend. As I find my way back home, I dream that the next turn of seasons will be gentler. A lullaby of days, soft and unhurried. My tired feet now long for rest, and my heart for the quiet hours to write you all which I learnt from these wanderings. As for you, I am wishing a heart full of curiosity. Your friend, Florrie.

Hello, dear friend. Last week’s thursday I celebrated my birthday. The day was lovely. The temperature provided the perfect suitableness to match a long dress with comfortable knitwear. I made myself the same pancakes I had as a child, and listened to the same Leonard Cohen song I loved as an adolescent. The sky had enough clouds to search for shapes during the train journey. I noticed one sleeping lamb, one sailboat with wind in its sails, and one burning candle. I opened the windows wide and let the wind blow whispers of time passing. There's a certain weight to this day, a gravity that pulls at my thoughts and emotions, reminding me of the layers of experiences stacked upon my shoulders. I found relief in the thought that, to anyone else, it was only thursday. From the students I received lovely presents. Two wildflowers, a bite from someone’s packed lunch, a drawing of a crescent moon, a white pebble, and a paper with my name written on it with the letter F facing the wrong direction. It was the first time I realised that the second word they learnt to write, after their own name, was mine. Recently I had been feeling like the words I pronounce out loud were slowly floating high into the clouds after they escaped from my lips. But, at least for this brief moment in time, someone dedicated their time to learn my name, and it meant something special. For my birthday wish, I dream that our words may carry the way of the lives we live, as lightweight or as abundant as we wish them to be. Your friend, Florrie.

Hello, dear friend. Autumn has arrived again. This means leaving the house at dawn with dew-kissed cheeks and the crackling sound of leaves under my boots. I have been spending my saved pennies on things that are warm. Woolen socks, cinnamon sticks for tea, scented candles. I find myself often returning home under the cloak of dusk, with very few moments spare to write my thoughts. So I apologise for being absent. I recently got a job in a place slightly more distant from home, occupying four days of my week. The journey there allows me to indulge in Bolero by Ravel exactly four times. The tiny humans entrusted to my care now tread the tender age of six and seven, the youngest bunch I have had the opportunity to teach. They enjoy exploring this world with their hands – brushing hair, shaping clay, tracing the contours of sun-warmed stones, and mastering the art of wielding pencils. They remind me of something simple and beautiful every day, so I return home often tired, but never uninspired. Most days, I learn just as much as I teach. I hope that you are also exploring this world in new ways, and encountering things that are soft and gentle, something that returns to you the feeling of kindness and softness that you give the world. Wishing you happiness. Your friend, Florrie.

Hello, dear friend. I decided to write you these letters to share the discoveries I have been unearthing along my path towards living more thoughtfully. I hope that they reach you with a gentle heart and a serene mind. For me, things have been quiet and lovely. I have been thinking a lot recently, about pressed flowers and weathered journals. Things that collect and hold memories. Recently I have been feeling like my memories have been transfiguring into wisps of mist and dissipating into air. I thought that maybe writing to an old friend could help make them tangible again, in case I wish to look back on them in the future. After all, this life is so brief and fragile, you never truly know which wonders are hiding within the mundane and the small delights. Here, summer is now reaching its end. The insects have been singing their songs slower, the sun has been yielding to earlier slumbers. Soon it will be autumn, and life will be all about chamomile teas, windy reading in the garden with a wooly jumper, and cleaning cobwebs from the bookshelves once more. I look forward to experiencing it, and I look forward to writing you all about it. Wishing you tenderness. Your friend, Florrie.