Maybe it is the sense of history, the smell of foreign places or the feeling that I was given the chance to glimpse into a different and private world, but I always loved mail. Getting it, writing it, sending it, peeping into other people mail (I know, you don’t have to tell me), even just holding it in my hand, feeling the texture of the paper, looking at the stamps and thinking of its long voyage.

Look at this envelope. It was sent by me and unfortunately a few weeks later I also became the last recipient. But what a journey it was between my house and my house.