I mailed  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 pay printed on them.

 

After affixing a stamp to each envelop in the bunch of pieces I sent on a particular day, I walked 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; perhaps the post office determined my choice of colors for the art.

One of the envelopes I mailed was returned to me a couple of months later. I sent it once again, hoping it would reach its destination.

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