sent from: London, UK. destination: Corte Madera, California, USA

Writing these cards as I do on the train to work, I must appear to other passengers like an overgrown student who left his homework to the last minute – rucksack on my lap, notebooks falling to the ground, pencilcase open like a patient in surgery, and me scribbling as the train bumps along.
I started them as an antidote to the all-consuming power of work, to stave off that feeling of being on a rock grinder. Yet here we are, and I’m almost 2 weeks behind in publishing them. My readership slowly drops every day as I fail to upload again, and despite my best efforts the things I write seem thin and desperate. I have big hopes and plans, so much I want to do with this project, but there are weeks when I wonder – why? What’s the point?
I don’t have an answer to that, this isn’t an inspirational card when I realise that it’s brilliant and I was wrong to ever doubt myself. The only thing I can do, the only way I can respond to this feeling, is to walk up tomorrow, pick up another card, and keep writing.