I’ve always loved paper.

As a child, my dad would take me along to office supply shops - and I loved it. I’d run my fingers over different papers, feeling the textures, picking up pens, choosing envelopes. My silver folder of odd pieces of different papers and letters became one of my most treasured things (along with my scented sticker collection!). I had an understanding that paper - and the words written on it - can hold something sacred.

That love never really left me.

I believe in the power of words, books, journals and letters.

I believe in what they hold - and in what they ask of us.

To read slowly. To be present. To meet someone - or ourselves - with attention and intention. They ask us to pay attention and to bring all of who we are to the table.

There’s something quietly powerful about holding words in your hands, about receiving something real and lasting. And even more so when you’re the one writing. It calls on your inner voice. It invites you to pause, to reflect, to speak with care.

Motherhood brought me to a new understanding of this need.

It’s not just the busyness - it’s the sheer pace of life that can undo us. The noise, the pressure, the never-ending demands. Somewhere in all of it, I lost touch with parts of myself. I found myself treading water, trying to stay afloat while everything moved too fast to catch and I found myself in a cycle of anxiety.

And so I started to slow down - just a little.

Through small, intentional practices like journaling, letter-writing, and gentle reflection, I found a way to begin reconnecting with myself. These became my tools. Quiet anchors. And I started to wonder: what if I could share these?

That’s how this all began.

The letters and artifacts I create - whether for children or for mothers - are born from that place. A place of remembering. Of valuing the quiet. Of wanting to help others feel seen, soothed, and held. Just as I needed.

Whether it’s a child receiving a letter reminding them of how magical they are, or a mum carving out five minutes to breathe and check in with herself - it all matters. Deeply.

So this work is personal. It comes from my heart, from lived experience, and from a lifelong love of words, paper, and the human spirit.

Thank you for being here.

I’m so glad our paths have crossed.

Kiki x