Everything is closed today. Not just the shops..Not just the post office..Not just the box number 49 that was supposed
Sometimes, the quietest stories live in the smallest corners of life, in the way sunlight rests on a doorstep, in
PO BOX 49 – Postcard Explosion! Good morning! Today I opened my PO Box and, BOOM! .. It was a
Dear Stranger, This past Saturday, a kind invitation from my former “schoolmate” Ioanna led me to the town of Lavrio,
August always takes me by the hand and brings me back to my own sea..Not a famous beach, not an
There were nights when Paul no longer fit inside his own body.. When the air felt too narrow, and the
Time does not pass the way clocks insist it does.. It passes through eyes that change.. And in Paul’s eyes,
Talitha… I don’t know if this is my last letter, or my first ending.. I no longer write for you
My Talitha, I feel you most in my silences.. When my hands touch the air without knowing why..When I walk
Letter from the Other Shore Paul, I do not know if it’s day or night where you are now..Here, we
(when everything fit inside a bike ride and a mixtape) “Do you remember the summers in Avlida? The heat shimmering
(A 1972 Dictionary Speaks) Lately, my days have been filled with silence.. and words.. So many words..Some I whisper..Some whisper
Dear Stranger, The pain had become almost poetic in its intensity..An epic kind of toothache, pulsing in my ear, blurring
After… after… after… and a dictionary After a day that smelled of sun and asphalt.. one of those Athenian days
Today, the mailbox whispered again… Two new stories arrived. One from Juist, a dreamy little island in the North Sea
Last Sunday was a day filled with magic and stardust… At the meet-up for the 20th anniversary of Postcrossing, I
“The Road That Knew Where I Was Going” It wasn’t exactly a trip.It was more like a calling..Something between forest,
A journey through landscapes, traditions, and tiny paper stories. Some days, the mailbox becomes a portal. Today, four postcards brought
Dear Stranger, It’s July already.. how did we get here? Half the year is behind us, and summer in Greece
There’s a quiet little ritual I return to each summer, right when the sun begins to melt the air and
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