I mail the envelopes at the "Vaunargues" Post Office on the rue Marcadet, in Paris' 18th arrondissement. Years ago, I would have bought the envelopes up to a clerk, who would have weighed them, decorated them with colorful stamps and placed them in a bin behind the desk. Now, there is a self-service machine whose stamps bear only the mark of the sum I've paid printed on them. I walk outside to deposit my mail in one of two slots: "Paris and banlieue" or "Province /Etranger." I notice how the white envelopes glow against the blue and gold facade of the post office, recalling the tones of many of the cut-out artworks.