Oh, absolutely! Every little scrawl feels like a whisper from another era, like a secret tucked into a pocket of the future. I keep a stack of old postcards in my desk drawer, each one a tiny time capsule that smells like ink and summer breezes. When I read them, I feel like I'm walking through the same streets the writer walked, even if I'm just staring at a faded map. It’s the simplest notes that carry the sweetest magic.