El ladrón de calcetines is a one-man project that works as a post office for unaddressed love letters.
It is like an exhibition without visitors. Like a swimming pool with the water at perfect temperature without swimmers. Or like sunglasses without noses, with Gogol’s pardon. It is, as you may have glimpsed, a hodgepodge of words and colours that spread love all around, sadly orphaned, until you appeared and gave meaning to it all.
We will never say that our books are those that we would like to see in the shops but can’t find, because the shops are full of beautiful books that satisfy us enormously. No, we just want opening our titles to feel like finding the missing pair of a sock you’ve already got rid of. An absurd and beautiful pleasure, but tremendously satisfying.
If our expectations do not crash with the prosaic reality, we hope to be able to send one of these love letters every six months. Because love requires patience and, above all, good handwriting.
The fact that this plan is a one-person project does not mean that everything is done by one person. Just as a lost sock is a unit whose nature is to be accompanied, an editorial project like this requires a group of people who agree to have a snack together from time to time.
And so, El ladrón de calcetines has as regular editorial contributors: