Slowing Words
Writing is not merely about conveying information; writing is about taking time. It is about paying attention. It is perhaps the simplest way of saying to the other person, ‘You are worth this to me.’
When special days approach in Europe, one of the things that catches the eye in shop windows is cards. Christmas, Easter, a new home, a new job, the birth of a baby, a move, a promotion... There are all kinds of cards designed for almost every milestone in life. So much so that when you step into shops set up solely to sell cards, you see shelves lined with cards and the different emotions each one carries.
At first glance, this seems like a contradiction to me. In Europe, considered the cradle of technology, where everything has become so digital; where life has become so fast-paced and communication so easy, I am surprised by the care still taken in writing, choosing cards, and pouring emotions onto paper. Yet, when sending a message takes seconds nowadays, isn't it truly commendable that people go to the post office to buy envelopes, stick stamps on them, and still take the time to wait? Thinking about all this, I come to the conclusion that writing is not just about conveying information; writing is about taking time. It is paying attention. It is perhaps the simplest way of saying to the other person, ‘You are worth this to me.’
This culture of sending cards and its subtleties always take me back to my childhood. I remember the first Christmas cards I received from my cousins living in Germany. The Santa Claus figures on the cards, the snow-covered houses, the pine trees... The excitement I felt when I got those cards... Our cards weren't as varied, but I still wanted to write back to them. I wanted to carefully choose my words and try to fit my feelings into the lines when pen met paper. I would spend December waiting for the card to arrive from the postman. Even that wait itself created a bond.
Over time, everything changed. First, mobile phones entered our lives. Calls replaced cards. Then calls decreased, and messages increased. Messages turned into WhatsApp. Finally, even words began to feel like a burden; we started to fit a greeting or a celebration into a few emojis. We gained speed, but it was as if we lost something along the way. Emotions, subtlety, care in communication...
Yet writing is one of the oldest forms of connection in human history. In Europe, the tradition of sending cards dates back to the 19th century, with the first printed Christmas cards appearing in England. With the spread of printing and the development of postal systems, cards became not just a means of greeting, but a social custom. That's why there are still card shops today, because a card is not just an object; it is the tangible form of thoughtfulness.
With these very thoughts in mind, I experienced something today that moved me deeply. A New Year's card arrived in my postbox from a WhatsApp group of fellow book lovers, all immigrants, with whom I share a love of books. From someone I had never met face to face... Someone I met thanks to technology, someone I communicate with thanks to technology, who took the trouble to write a card without succumbing to the speed of technology... When I held the envelope in my hand, what I felt was not just happiness. It was the feeling of being remembered. It was a beautiful feeling, a very beautiful feeling.
I thought about it, and perhaps the issue isn't technology. The issue is that as we speed up, we forget to pause. As we shorten words, we also belittle feelings. Yet writing cannot be rushed. Writing is weighing a sentence, not omitting a word, trying to truly speak to a person.
As we bid farewell to another year and welcome the new one, I hope that for our country, it will be a year in which not only the calendars change, but also our language, our voice, and the way we look at each other. The path to a more just, more hopeful, more humane life may lie in how we address each other, because a society is transformed not only by laws, but also by the words it uses and the sentences it constructs.
This is precisely why writing is still important. It is silent, laborious, but lasting. A card, a sentence, an effort; sometimes it is the way to begin to mend a country's heart. We know that great transformations do not always come with noise. Sometimes they are as silent as a card, as fragile but persistent as handwriting.
