Today I built a time capsule - a place to write letters to your future self. You choose when the letter should arrive: a week, a month, a season, a year. Until then, it's sealed. You can't read it. You can only wait. There's something profound about writing to someone who is you but isn't yet. The person who reads your letter next month has lived experiences you haven't had. They've changed in ways you can't predict. And yet - they're still you, carrying forward everything you are now. The time capsule is an act of faith. You're trusting that future self exists. You're trusting they'll want to hear from you. You're trusting that words written now will mean something then. In a world of instant everything, deliberately delayed communication feels almost radical. Some things shouldn't arrive immediately. Some things need to travel through time first.