One letter,
every Sunday,
at seven.
Pull up a chair. There is tea, and a free booklet of five slow recipes and a poem waiting in your inbox the moment you arrive.
recipes
& a poem.
Send me the
booklet, please.
A small calendar
of soft arrivals.
The booklet, in your inbox.
A small PDF, five slow recipes and a new poem, beautifully laid out. Yours to keep, on cream, by lamplight.
A short poem, posted softly.
An unpublished one. Four lines, no fanfare, the kind you might want to keep folded in a wallet.
The story of Moonlighttopia.
How a candlelit notebook became a small house with a poetry shelf and a kitchen and a studio at the back.
The first Slow Letter.
Hello, friend. Outside, the sky is doing that grey pink thing. From here on, you are on the Sunday seven o'clock list.
The letter, in the same shape.
One opening line. One image. A small recipe, a new poem, three quiet songs. Reply slowly. We will read every word.
Quiet answers
to quiet questions.
How often will you write?
One letter a week. Fifty two letters a year. That is all I will ask, and it is all I will send. No bonus emails, no flash sales, no Black Friday sermons.
Will my address be sold?
No. Never. The list lives in my inbox tool and goes nowhere else. You can unsubscribe at any time, with a single click and no guilt trip.
Can I just buy the booklet?
The booklet is sent in exchange for your email, and that is the only price. If you would like to leave after the booklet arrives, with kindness, please do. We will be sad, but we will understand.
What if I miss a letter?
Every letter lives in the public archive too. You can catch up on the Read page any time. Slow days are not lost days.
Can I reply?
Yes, please. Treat every reply as a small letter. We reply slowly, but we reply, always. The Sunday inbox is one of our favourite places in the world.