if we still celebrate shakespeare, we can still celebrate what we wrote last year
the archive is alive (and so are the ideas inside)
I’m Tuğba, a Greek-Turkish artist living in Berlin - as slow as possible is a newsletter exploring the in-between spaces of our lives that we see but often do not notice. Interested in reading more of my work?
There is something really strange about writing online. We pour ourselves into essays, reflections, and ideas, and then we watch as the current of new content sweeps it downstream.
Publishing a new post is a weird, bittersweet feeling. Exciting on one side, with all the new words I’ve poured onto the page. But there’s also sadness, and maybe even grief, that my previous words are dead now, buried under newer thoughts, newer trends, newer takes.
In reality, though, I know that ideas aren’t perishable in the way the internet makes them seem. They don’t expire. They evolve. Like seeds, some thoughts are planted and take time to grow. Others bloom unexpectedly, their meaning changing with the seasons of our lives.
The archive is not a graveyard. It’s a garden.
When I write these words, there is always a seed planted from previous ones. Every word I write is interconnected with the thousands of others I’ve written before. But I also think, as readers, when we reread something we’ve already read, we don’t relive it in the exact same way. We see it differently. We bring to it the experiences we’ve had since, the questions we’re carrying now, the context that time has added. What once felt like a passing observation might suddenly read like a truth you needed to hear today. Everything is interconnected. That’s the quiet magic of the archive.
I actually set myself an intention this year — instead of constantly reading new books, to reread some of my favourite ones. The work that came before isn’t less worthy because it came before. It’s part of the system of roots that enables the new to grow.
As much as I love the internet for what it offers us, it’s also a weird place that often doesn’t really know what to do with the kind of work that is meant to live and breathe. It treats everything like content. Built for the now. Built for endless scrolling. Built for the next, the next, the next. It forgets it ever happened.
Books don’t vanish in 48 hours. They wait. You can pick up a novel from 20 years ago and find it breathing. A poem from a dead century can feel more alive than whatever just went viral. That’s because art doesn’t chase attention like content does. It creates space. It gives you something to return to.
That’s why we, as writers, have to be the caretakers of our own archives. We have to say: This still matters. This isn’t old — it’s alive.
So, this post is something different. It’s not new. But it’s alive.
If you’ve only recently joined this newsletter, or if the scroll never slowed down long enough for a quiet read, this is for you. Below, I’ve gathered some of the pieces I still feel humming with relevance — the ones that deserve another moment in the light.
✨ still fresh
This one is still travelling through inboxes.
🫶🏼 most loved
The ones that struck a nerve — widely read, shared, and still circulating in inboxes and group chats.
💭 the attention series
A deep dive into the fractured way we live now. Teaser: an ebook is coming in June — 8 Tools for Deep Work, a guide to finding time for what matters amid constant distraction.
🫀 deeply personal
The raw, reflective pieces — about identity, midlife, grief, and becoming.
🌍 modern living
On presence, purpose, boredom, and being human online.
✍🏼 becoming a book
The seed of what will become my first book.
I’d love to know: do you ever reread your favourite books? And if so, what’s the most times you’ve ever reread one? Most importantly, if you’re up for sharing — which book is your favourite reread?
Take care!
Your friend Tuğba
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I read Meditations by Marcus Aurelius often and although I'm not quite there yet I'd like to read it at least once a year. There's so much knowledge in there and so many times I resonated deeply with the words on the page. Great book, highly recommended, if you haven't read it already. Thank you for a lovely letter Tuğba.
Hi Tuğba,
I love what you say here. It's hit me that I have many books I've read before which I'd like to get to again, and have also bought a lot of books I keep telling myself I'll get round to, which have still not been opened, yet I buy more! And there are the so-called classics which have hung around and not been touched, which I really, really need to read (I'm looking at you Jane Austin and Leo Tolstoy).
Thank you for this reminder, and I love your intention not to buy any new books. I perused my own shelves and have so much to explore - both for the first time, and on repeat! So I'm now going to take a leaf out of your book (so to speak!) and try to stop myself from buying any more stuff, and read what's already there.
Thank you!
P.S. Leyla Kazim's 'Pathways' books will be arriving soon, and if she ever writes anything else you can be sure I'll be buying that IMMEDIATELY!