the post office


Yesterday I visited a forgotten place, probably the only public place deserted at lunchtime. No lines here, no worries choking up everyone in the room. Time seems to be slower here with only me and mostly a bunch of old people seating behind the counter with their envelopes and stamps. It was like entering a whole new world. One of them, a woman in her 60s, asked me for an address. Of course I knew she wasn’t expecting one with the @ or .com in it. It’s the physical, the tangible that she needed, where the loved one I wish to reach sleeps, bathes, breathes.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at

%d bloggers like this: