While in London, came into my hands a little book with great content. The book will "kidnap" from start. We're all Granny Smith y. .. this book is intended as a letter of about 120 pages of our postman ... or rather the Royal Mail is a nice book, very readable, in which they explain what life is like a postman, and what might happen in the future. .. maybe a little uncertain for those who carry the cards.
There is a whole chapter on time. At about not having time to be late ... where? Anywhere. He speaks of her time ... when I passed by the house and the children got very happy to know that the postman came ... and when, occasionally, offered him a cup of tea and he accepted it sometimes (as in the story of " Friendly Postman ")... Another chapter on rainy days, days in office ... The truth is it's a little sad to think that all this can end the cards ... are not as expected as before .... And maybe one day these people laden with bags of mail, and are not ... And who would not look forward to receive a postcard or a letter? Even if it's here next! This book has begun in me the desire to return it to write a letter. The fact of sitting at the desk and decide what to knowing that I can not erase with a key.
This book led me to think about the boxes ... Benedetti once wrote a book I loved it "Mailbox of time." The cover has a mailbox and the book contains several letters ... All types. They all make you travel, to joy, nostalgia, ... Only you can discover the whole story, only the person who writes layout you want to convey. It is a beautiful book, very suitable for the fall. Not all letters belong to the same person and history ... Whereupon is an ideal book to combine with other readings. I come to mind, some of those letters that were written in a bar, while people who write notes in and out. 
So I went to the shelf and thinking about all this I set eyes on Helene Hanff and her book of letters ... watch it around me and I do not want to write this ... It is over to pick up a pencil, a pen, a Bic pen ... and translate our letter on pieces of paper ... sometimes more readable than other ... I remember the hours I spent trying to decipher some letters I wrote, when the email and the phone did not exist. Today similar happens with it to write less words ... Little by little it seems you are creating a new common language. 
There is no such summer in which she receives a score of letters between friends and new people I knew ... And how wonderful it was to reach home and find mailbox full cards. In my parents' house several cardboard boxes with thousands of letters. I never threw any ... Last summer I was rereading some of them ... Yen occasions, I said ... but what are you talking about? I did not know what they meant ... since I have my answers, but not without laughs. Other reminded me of trips and travel times that I have no photos.
This also made me think when I was younger and spent long periods with my grandparents ... The postman used to warn that the door was whistling. He was running around the house to be the first to collect the cards. And my aunts shared his love letters to my grandparents' letters from relatives who lived far away, and yes I was lucky, there was some for me. Was a pleasure to read ... who does not remember having a letter hand and decide whether to immediately open although not the best time to read it or keep it easy, when there is less chance of being interrupted? In my case, usually despite the anxiety of knowing the content, used to keep them until the evening.
But back to the mailboxes ... what will become of them? Disappear? Will become an icon most of our cities. Where I live it is difficult we found a mailbox. So much so that sometimes I go straight to email. Museums will remain on time? Those places where we put our news, happy, sad, full of emotion ... Today, as many expect that news at Christmas. and seals! Walking around Oxford found a place that sold stamps 24 hours a day ... I can assure you that sometimes you want to buy stamps when they were already closed tight. And send the letters first thing in the morning.
As I say, is a book full of charm, but with a touch of melancholy. Can be carried in a backpack, a pocket ... And reading it, you discover that the postman is not someone who does not know you ... Maybe some time you know who you are. Once, not long ago, I sent a postcard to a friend, but wrong address. Realized portfolio, read the name and gave the chance to know my friend ... so I sent it despite the terrible mistake I had. letter boxes displayed are from different places in London, Oxford, Guernsey, Mont Saint Michael, Leuven ... The truth is that I have pictures of the boxes closest to my home ... Although I must say that recently, I've realized I have one behind my house ... Perhaps, reading this book, I opened eyes.
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