Ligature

Two letters joined into a single form to resolve a collision. A small act of craft, invisible when right, awkward when missing.

Some letter pairs collide by design: the hook of an f into the dot of an i, a double f jostling for the same air. A ligature redraws the pair as one form, resolving the crash into a single intentional shape. Set well, it is invisible; its absence is what shows.

Beyond the functional pairs live the discretionary ones, flourishes that join letters for character rather than necessity. We use those the way we use gold: rarely, and where the eye is meant to linger, a title, a signature line. In running text they are perfume worn to a meeting.