Dear Stranger
Anonymous writers have stashed hundreds of letters around a Providence library, hoping they'll be found by people like you.
Pssst… the audio version isn’t a bot, it’s recorded by me!
Whenever I come across an unlocked drawer in a library, hotel, or other ‘public’ desk, I open it. I always hope for intrigue—a discarded love letter, perhaps, or a shopping list for an absurd combination of items—and I usually get scrap paper or broken pencils.
This afternoon, however, I hit the jackpot at my favorite library: not just one but two drawers filled with letters to Dear Stranger. It seems to be something of a tradition here at the Providence Athenaeum, one that even the librarians encourage. According to a PBS feature about the library, they sometimes nudge people to open the drawers. It makes sense—one of the Athenaeum’s best anecdotes is that Edgar Allen Poe secretly autographed a book when he visited, signing his name in pencil under one of his poems and then just slipping the book back onto the shelf.
The letters are written on pages torn from notebooks or journals, on the backs of grocery lists (“milk, lettuce, bananas, potatoes”), bits of coffee cup sleeves, scraps from paper bags. Some have illustrations. Nearly all are earnest.
Many are dated 2019, and seem to be written by students from nearby universities. One person admitted to falling in love with their best friend; another wrote about falling in love for the very first time: Have you ever connected so deeply with someone, so suddenly, mind, body, and soul, that the only choice was to fall, fall, fall…?
The Providence Athenaeum dates back to 1836, and it’s unlike any library I’ve ever visited before. The shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, with a mezzanine built around the edges of the library about halfway up the shelves. Between the stacks—which are filled with books so old, many of them have hand-written titles on their spines—there’s a vintage wooden desk in each alcove. It’s the sort of place you’d expect a writer to dream of working from, and it’s one of my favorite places in the entire world.
I come to the Athenaeum often when I visit Providence, which is where I grew up. It’s a beautiful place to work from, and all the distractions here feel worth my time, like taking my brain out for a walk. I’m always inspired to pick up the Providence Journal, flip through Rhode Island Monthly, or leaf through books about subjects I might not ordinarily seek out. It is because of the Athenaeum that I know that Shirley Temple influenced the style of children’s playhouses for a generation of wealthy Americans, and that cat mysteries are an entire genre of books (see: Claws and Effect and Catch as Cat Can by “Rita Mae Brown & Sneaky Pie Brown,” the latter of which is the actual real-life cat of the former).
Last year, I stumbled upon a drawer just like this in another desk at the library, but I’ve never found more than scrap paper in any of the others. That desk—which is my favorite one, because it faces a window—was taken when I arrived this afternoon, so I went to a desk in an alcove I’ve never explored before.
I’d say I just got lucky by happening upon the cache, but the letter writers would probably tell you it was one part kismet, one part choice. I could have sat anywhere and I ended up here somewhat randomly, but I made the choice to open the drawer.
It was such a delight to read through these letters from strangers to unknown readers. Something about them makes me feel more optimistic about our future. I thought you might enjoy them, too, so I’m sharing snippets here from some of my favorites:
9/14/19
Dear Stranger,
though we’ve not met,
I have a notion that you are good.
Now you’ve read this, you’ve earned a debt
to leave your own note, as you should.
Write a poem, a mere few lines,
choose a scheme or maybe rhymes.
Leaving poems incurs no fines;
Small, friendly deeds are rarely crimes.
-IW
7/13/21
Dear Stranger,
A lot has happened in order for us to meet this way. We’re sitting in the exact same spot, but in different months (and different years!). We lead separate lives, but everything we’ve done before now led us to this exact spot. That’s pretty cool to think about. What made you look inside the desk? What led you to this moment in time?…
10/27/22
HELLO STRANGER
On PBS last night they had a story about this place and the notes left in the drawers. I just had to [?] to it. I’m sitting in an alcove writing this and I’m so blessed to be here in the moment. The sun is streaming in and outside the last blossoms are visible in the courtyard below. This is an extra ticket from work where I cook. I love feeding people and I love being fed by places like this. I’m not sure what will happen to this note but it doesn’t matter. I hope it sticks around for a while.
11/12/23
…At a moment filled with overwhelming tragedy in the world, it is so relieving to find this tiny reminder of pure goodness + humanity. Even when my faith has been shaken, I still like to believe there is something bigger than us. We are all connected. There is something, some force, that has made me decide to study here today, to choose this desk rather than the other empty ones, to open the drawer… Thank you for your contributions to this thing which has been so meaningful for me today. It’s comforting to think I may pass some of you unknowingly out there in the world.
4/5/25
I’m sitting here with Jessie, who I’m pretty sure is the love of my life. Have you ever connected so deeply with someone, so suddenly, mind, body, and soul, that the only choice was to fall, fall, fall…? We’ve only known each other for one month. … Being in love is crazy, but what the hell else is life for if not that?
5/1/25
I come to you a week before I complete my masters’ degree in couple and family therapy. I’m sitting at this little desk, working on my thesis, and wishing I could keep this feeling for just a little bit longer. This place has given me a sense of peace as I work on the most monumental task of my life today. This feeling, this peace, is what I hope for you, whatever you may be doing or experiencing, I wish you nothing but peace.
Know that this stranger loves you and is thinking of you.
Love,
Another stranger
The letter drawers remind me of a cafe I loved when I lived in Mexico City, Vocablo y Poesia. Every order came with a short poem on a tiny slip of paper, and they often felt like fortunes or horoscopes. Depending on my mood, I might see some sort of answer or direction in the poem I received. If I had been feeling down, I might get a poem that encouraged me to change my perspective.
The best part, though, was the cafe’s postbox. For the equivalent of about a dollar, you could get a few sheets of paper, an envelope, and a pen, and you could write a ‘letter to the universe.’ It could be anything you wanted it to be: a short story, a letter to a stranger, an admission or confession, a poem, a list of hopes and dreams… there were no rules. After you’d written your letter, you could put it in the mailbox, and swap it for a random one from someone else.
Once, I wrote a letter complaining about some unrequited infatuation, complete with self-criticism and unnecessary comparison. There were dozens of other letters in there, if not a hundred or more, and yet I still managed to pull my own letter a week or two later when I went back to write again. I wanted the universe to give me something hopeful, something cheerful and full of good news, but the letter I had ‘sent’ was glum.
Touché! I said to the Universe. It was annoying, and a little embarrassing, to be confronted with such a mirror, but it makes me laugh now. How could I have expected to deposit only negativity, and withdraw both optimism and joy?
I haven’t written back to the Athenaeum’s letter drawer yet, even though I’ve owed a debt to the other desk for quite a while. I do have an idea, now, of what I want to say. Over the last year, I’ve spent more time in Rhode Island than any other year since I graduated from high school, and I have loved it more than I ever imagined possible. Much of my work as of late has turned into an accidental love letter, of sorts, to my entire home state—including my portfolio for the British Guild of Travel Writers’ Travel Writer of the Year award, which I’ve just learned I’ve been shortlisted for (!).
There’s so much to love about this little place, and I keep finding more things to adore. To be honest, I’ve had no choice but to just fall, fall, fall.
The library is about to close now, so my literal love letter to Providence will have to wait another day. Wherever you are in the world, I hope something surprising brings you joy today. Perhaps this is your sign to go snooping in plain sight…
All the best,
Kassondra
What a lovely idea - and experience beautifully shared. Thank you!
I loved hearing you read this, Kass! Such a sweet story and love that people are still out there writing letters <3