Gifts
Something in your hands, for you or for them.
Made small, made slowly, and never a subscription. If you send one to a star, whoever keeps it decides whether to accept — and their address is never shown to you.
Everything9
Paper2
Jewellery2
Prints1
Candles1
Commissions1
Living2
Made small, made slowly, never a subscription. Every maker is a small British workshop and keeps most of the price.
A memory journal
Undated, so a bad week does not become a page of blank days. Prompts in the back, ignorable.
Cut in Birmingham
Made to order
Their star, worn
Recycled silver, engraved with the exact coordinates of their star in the galaxy.
The sky, printed
The night sky over the place they died, or the night they were born. Your choice, cotton paper.
Twelve candles
One for each month of the first year. Unscented, because scent is a landmine in the first year.
Six illustrators
Four weeks
A portrait, drawn by hand
From a photograph you send. Four weeks, and you see it before it is printed.
A tree, in their name
Planted in the winter after, with the exact location sent to whoever it is for.
A blanket, heavy
Weighted, because the first months are mostly spent on a sofa not sleeping.
Cut in Birmingham
Made to order
Their handwriting, kept
A line of their real handwriting, traced from a photograph onto silver.
Letters to them
Twenty envelopes and a box. For the things you would have told them.
Waiting for you
Someone sent twelve candles to Daniel’s star.
Sent by someone who signed it “someone he worked with in 2016”. You can accept it, or not, and either is fine.
Accept the gift
Not right now