Every package tells a story

When someone orders from me, their first experience isn't with the card or the letter itself — it's with the packaging. That first moment matters. It's the very first impression, and I've always felt that it carries weight. What you hold in your hands can be just a plain, forgettable box you set aside… or it can already feel like a little gift, something that sparks joy the second you open it.

I prefer the latter. I love creating packages that don't just "carry" what's inside, but also tell a little story of their own. I love when every order feels different, when no two parcels look the same. There's something human in that, something handmade, something that makes you feel: this was prepared especially for you.

I often use materials that others might throw away. Old, torn books, brown wrapping paper that once cushioned another parcel, leftover ribbons or tiny decorations that can be given new life. For me, it's important not to rely solely on factory-made, brand-new packaging. Of course, it would be easier to just buy everything in rolls: colorful boxes, shiny tape, preprinted labels. But somehow, that wouldn't feel like the right story to tell.

When a children's book falls apart, it may no longer be fit for reading, but its pages can still bring joy in another form. Perhaps your order will arrive wrapped with a page once read by candlelight to a sleepy child. Or maybe it will carry a fragment of an old novel that sat forgotten on a dusty shelf, now setting out on a new journey. There's something poetic in that: stories don't really end — they just continue in another shape.

Some people call this "upcycling" or "zero waste," and yes, it is that. But for me, it's more about how I look at things. About seeing possibility where others see waste. And maybe also about playfulness: putting together different pieces, finding the right way they fit, and discovering new beauty in them.

I don't believe this will suddenly change the world. I won't save the planet on my own by wrapping packages in book pages. But I do believe the small steps matter. That if enough of us try to do things differently, something bigger can grow from it. And I believe that small gestures bring joy.

That's why packaging isn't just an afterthought for me. It's not only about protection, but about how it feels to hold. That when you open it, you notice the handwritten note, the touch of old paper, the carefully tied string. These little details make it more personal — they make you feel someone cared.

Maybe I also want to send a message: that slow, mindful things still have their place in this fast, mass-produced world. That not everything needs to come off a conveyor belt to be valuable. In fact, sometimes uniqueness is the very thing that makes something precious.

So when I prepare a package, I don't just think about how it will reach you. I think of it as a tiny story I get to send along. A piece of the past, a touch of care, a hint of playfulness — all wrapped together. And when you open it, I hope it brings a smile to your face.

From the outside, it may look like just another envelope or box. But to me, it's much more than that. It's a message: that things can be done differently. That beauty doesn't only live in newness, but often in what we rediscover. And that even packaging can be an experience — when it's made with heart.