Over the years, I have enjoyed collecting blank postcards. I have a wild array of images, all neatly stacked in a shoebox. In the past, I even sent them to friends, with something deeply insightful scribbled on the back. Not so much lately, though.
|Some of the 45 cards I received|
from people all over the world
But . . . these were just random strangers. And I've got enough to keep me occupied right here with friends, family, and colleagues. So I let the project lapse. It's there waiting, if I choose to reengage.
|The bottom two (Stockholm and|
the Dolomites) are from my old
friend Ulla, a traveling fool;
the top one I sent to my mother
from Namibia, where we were
rock climbing (but with ropes
attached where they should be)
You? Send me a postcard! If you need my address, I'll be glad to give it to you. I'd love to hear from you. And if you'd like me to send you a postcard from my shoebox, just let me know.