Say it out loud. It arrives in ink.
You talk into your phone for two minutes. A few days later, someone you love opens an envelope at the kitchen table and reads a letter written in pen, on paper. A stamped envelope comes with it so they can write back by hand.
Neither of you has to meet the other halfway.
A page, not a chat
When you stop talking, the words don’t land in a bubble. They set themselves as a letter. Tap a word to fix it. Turn off any change you didn’t mean. Then post it.
What you see here is the app. Nothing is mailed from this page.
Say it the way you’d say it on the phone.
Don’t compose. The ums come out afterward, and you see every change before it goes.
This browser doesn’t offer dictation. Type it, or use a sample.
The part that makes it correspondence
What stops your grandmother writing is not having a stamp, not knowing your address, and not wanting to ask. Every letter goes out with a stamped envelope and a sheet of paper. All three problems are already solved when she opens it.
What comes back is her own hand, on paper she touched. We can’t make that. We can only make it happen.
Write home. Write back.
PO BOX 4471
DETROIT MI 48226
PAID
418 W CANFIELD ST APT 3
DETROIT MI 48201
I’d send these.
You have things to say and no time to sit down with a pen. Leave an email and we’ll write when the app is ready.
I’d give these.
Ten letters, $79. You give the book to your grandchild. They write from their phone. The letters come to your mailbox, each with an envelope to write back.
Give ten letters