Issue Nº 24

Lisbon · Autumn 2026

Essays · Field notes · Conversations

Sunday, 11 October 2026

Words worth the wait.

Words worth the wait.

Words worth the wait.

An independent journal of essays, field notes and conversations. One considered issue, every Sunday.

4.9 · Read by 48,000 people every Sunday

A writer’s hand holding a persimmon pencil over an open notebook in soft daylight

Fig. 01 — The Sunday desk

Photographed in Lisbon

03 — The reading index

Five rooms in the archive

Every piece we publish lives in one of five rooms. Hover a row to look inside, or tap to step in.

  1. 01Essays01 · 128 piecesLong, unhurried arguments about attention, craft and the small rituals that hold a life together.128 piecesA pencil resting on the pages of a blank notebook
  2. 02Field Notes02 · 74 piecesShort dispatches from streets, studios and kitchens — written on location, edited at home.74 piecesA narrow Lisbon street glowing in golden evening light
  3. 03Conversations03 · 41 piecesUnhurried interviews with writers, editors and makers about how they actually work.41 piecesA stack of art books with a speckled ceramic cup and candle
  4. 04Letters04 · 36 piecesPersonal notes from the editors, sent the way letters used to be: slowly and on purpose.36 piecesA bundle of airmail letters and handwritten envelopes
  5. 05Reading Lists05 · 33 piecesHand-picked shelves for long weekends, long flights and long winters.33 piecesA tall wall of books in a dim, quiet reading room
A quiet wooden writing desk and chairs washed in late-afternoon sunlight

04 — The Miruta manifesto

Slow is a point of view.

We publish less, so every issue earns its place on your Sunday. No trends, no hot takes — only pieces we would still want to read in ten years.

05 — Inside the Sunday letter

One issue, five small rituals

Every Sunday at 7 a.m. Lisbon time, one email. Here is what is folded inside.

An open interiors magazine beside a cup of coffee and dried grasses

01 — The weekly essay

One long essay, edited for a month

A single piece you can finish with one cup of coffee. Drafted in the drawer, read aloud twice, then sent.

Nº 20

Nº 21

Nº 22

Nº 23

Nº 24

02 — The archive

Eleven years, all searchable

312 essays and counting, sorted by room, mood and season.

03 — Audio edition

Read aloud by the author

Every essay as a quiet recording. Eighteen minutes on average, no music, no ads.

04 — The reading list

Three books, one record, one film

Hand-picked by the editors and never, ever sponsored.

05 — Letters & replies

Reply to any issue. A human reads every letter.

The best replies are printed, with permission, in the next Sunday’s postscript.

Re: Issue Nº 23

“Your piece on the commonplace book made me buy a notebook at the airport. Three weeks in, it’s already half full.”

— Marta, Porto

06 — By the numbers

Small journal, long memory

48k Readers every Sunday

Across 112 countries, from Lisbon to Lagos.

48k Readers every Sunday

Across 112 countries, from Lisbon to Lagos.

312 Essays in the archive

Every one of them still free to read.

312 Essays in the archive

Every one of them still free to read.

94% Average open rate

People open the letter. Most of them finish it.

94% Average open rate

People open the letter. Most of them finish it.

11yrs Without missing a Sunday

Since the first issue went to forty friends.

11yrs Without missing a Sunday

Since the first issue went to forty friends.

07 — The notebook

From the desk and the road

Amara’s contact sheet: where we write, what we read and the streets in between. Tap any photo to look closer.

Rua da Bica at seven, the hour the trams go quiet.Streets · Lisbon · Oct 2026
The Olympia that drafted Issue 01. It still sticks on the letter e.Desks · Studio · Sep 2026
This month’s pile: Matisse, Mucha, Magritte and too much coffee.Shelves · Reading corner · Oct 2026
Where the Sunday letter starts: a blank page and a candle.Desks · Home · Aug 2026
Fog on the window, glasses off, the first sentence still missing.Mornings · Sintra · Nov 2025
Reading before the inbox. A rule we break only on Mondays.Mornings · Home · Jul 2026
Reader letters from Porto, Osaka and Montréal, answered by hand.Desks · Studio · Jun 2026
Our favourite reading room, open late on Thursdays.Shelves · Porto · May 2026
A borrowed typewriter, a balcony and one very long afternoon.Desks · Alfama · Apr 2026

08 — Masthead

The people behind the Sunday letter

Four people, one shared desk in Lisbon and a long list of contributors who write in from everywhere else.

Portrait of Inês Calado, editor-in-chief of Miruta Journal

Inês Calado

Founding Editor

Instagram

Portrait of Tomás Weller, essays editor

Tomás Weller

Essays Editor

Instagram

Portrait of Kofi Asante, contributing writer

Kofi Asante

Contributing Writer

Instagram

Portrait of Amara Lind, field notes and photography

Amara Lind

Field Notes & Photography

Instagram

A stone path disappearing into soft morning fog on a hillside

09 — The Sunday letter

Join the Sunday letter

One considered issue in your inbox every Sunday morning: an essay, a field note and a short reading list. Never more, never sponsored.

Free, every Sunday · 48,000 readers · Unsubscribe in one click

A stone path disappearing into soft morning fog on a hillside

09 — The Sunday letter

Join the Sunday letter

One considered issue in your inbox every Sunday morning: an essay, a field note and a short reading list. Never more, never sponsored.

Free, every Sunday · 48,000 readers · Unsubscribe in one click

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