Reading the Mail

It used to be something to look forward to, that pile of envelopes addressed by human hands, with stamps from all around the world. And now, most are machine-addressed, machine-packed, machine-originated.

Our mail has lost its soul; it has gained in efficiency and lost its aura of historicity. Philately is now a game with sticky paper that is really not relevant anymore. Numismatics will follow soon, with only the ancient alloys bearing value.

Slowly, slowly, the horses of technological progress tug Time's chariot to a backyard stall, there forever to moulder and decay. Time's wings are now the dark shadow around us, a cloak of years and fears and tears — but no longer pulling any sort of chariot.

We tumble like weeds in the wake of the wind. The writing that's no longer on paper is on the wall.