I stumbled across a rise in the snow during a blizzard a few years back, when the only lights around were from Dunkin' Donuts stores tucked neatly into the white void. Peeking out from under the cold: postboxes. Red ones, blue ones, green ones, yellow ones. Now, anyone who has ever sent a serious number of letters - and I mean serious - understands the importance of the postbox. The sign, the seal. The hope, implicit trust and blind faithfulness of the act itself. When you can appreciate distance, you can see time. When you can see time, you can understand space. When you can understand space, you can find your place in it.
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