• Flea Market Love Letters

Dear You.

Dear You,

Yes, you. All those of you who are documented here. I didn't want to see the year-end without a proper, formal thank you. Without you and your letters, there would be no Flea Market Love Letters. Without you, there would be no 'Write More Letters' Project, ergo no $500+ funds raised for U.S. Veterans. Without you, none of this could be possible and you'll never know. This is a free archive made possible by charity, a little bit of elbow grease, and a whole lot of coffee.

And of course, you. So for that, I say thank you.

People often ask me what I think you would think about me photographing your letters and posting them on the internet. Maybe some of you lived long enough to know about the internet. But I have a feeling some of you didn't so will I explain?

The internet is like faith.

It's something you can't really see but you can feel it. You can feel it when a stranger sends you a care package of old postcards because they thought of you. You can feel it when someone you've never met in Germany translates an entire diary for you for free. You can feel it when someone reads letters -- your letters -- and writes some forty, fifty, sixty-plus years after you wrote those lines that you've made them feel or believe in love.

I can't tell people what you would do if I met you tomorrow. I can tell them what you thought, felt, and dreamt when you were writing your letters but I don't presume to know what you would say if you knew all this was going on. All I can do is tell your stories with respect. I hope that if I did meet you tomorrow that you would know I have always endeavored to do at least that. I also would like to meet several of you, generally. You are some of the funniest, down-to-earth people I've ever met and I am sad to think I'll never get to meet you. But I have your letters.

In 2020 alone we shared almost 200 letters. Well, 182 to be exact. A lot of very nice people invited me on their podcasts -- think radio but for the internet -- and some small newspapers even printed what they let me write about your letters. And even more new hearts found your letters.

Someone recently called me a "guardian" of your letters. I like that. They are safe with me so please don't worry.

I suppose I'll close now as there's not much else interesting to say.

Write often.

Your loving curator,


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