sent from: London, UK. destination: Los Angeles, California, USA

This card comes from the collection my mother donated to the project. It’s hard not to look at the image of Christ on the cover with a certain squeamishness, it’s so brutal. I debated including it for a while, but then decided why not. I grew up staring at the image of this man tortured, bleeding, hands and feet nailed to pieces of wood. Potent stuff, listened to over and over again. And I was told to feel guilty about it, about everything, that he suffered this way because of me and my.. well, sins, whatever they were. Whatever I was dealing with, it was nothing compared to what He endured, so I should just like it or lump it. I don’t hate the Catholic Church, maybe I should, it just all seems absurd to me now. It’s still a part of my life, I can’t ignore it, it’s a part of the social fabric of my family, but I can’t quite get excited about it like I used to. I guess this means I’ll never be President of the USA. Shame!