I bake, sew; aspire and procrastinate to write a novel. I work. I read a lot. If you love me, don’t tell me how it ends. I love old things; dresses, hats, desks, typewriters, cars, letter writing; and often think I was born in the wrong time. Sometimes I’ll write interesting letters, and other times I’ll put you to sleep. That’s ok. Everyone is fascinating and boring by turns. For three quarters of my life I’ve dreamed of having pen pals. This is not a passing fancy. I will always write back, even if it’s next year(let’s hope not:)I’m looking for kindred spirits across the world.