I continue my slow living this weekend - now slow writing snail mail for one of my longtime pen friends in France - dating back to about 1994. We met at the train station in Kristiansand. I overheard someone speaking French - two ladies well above my age - two friends - a Norwegian and a French, it turns out - and before getting on the train for Stavanger we had exchanged addresses; there you go.
Our letter writing activities have been there continuously - although more or less intense as my kids came along and e-mail took over as an easier way out. Yesterday I got yet another long letter - recounting the voyages of my dear, French friend made during the last months. She keeps me up to date on her grand children, her literature projects and travels. For a few years now there are no more news from her close Norwegian travel companion; she sadly passed away.
Now I am picking up my precious gold tip Waterman ink pen - offered to me for my birthday when we lived in Bordeaux more than ten years ago - refilled with turquoise ink from a tiny pen shop near Les Halles from my stay in Paris earlier this year - continuing the contemplating effect of hand writing a letter for a friend that has not heard from me in too long.