Writing letters is one of those things we are deprived of. Just like running in meadows. In times, one can take refuge in letter writing. One can also take refuge in running in a meadow. The paper of a letter, is a very strange place. It is were words metamorphose after being expressed. They are resurrected in a form apart from words. There are three aspects to every letter: the author, the reader and a world detached from every aspect of the letter. If used to writing and reading letters, you will find this detached world meaningful. You realize that words can sting the same way the can smell nice. One should not  underestimate the words. Here the words have leaked into the paper, leaving a trace on it starting to wound.

These letters of Azadeh Razzaghdoost have a strange feeling about them; it is as if they are the fate of letters read in themselves through our negligence; letters that are never sent or read…