In the twilight between dreams I saw myself making my snail-mail postcards again. The scene ricocheted through subsequent dreams. I was preparing for a massive mailing to kindred souls around the world. The card I chose for the occasion was the one of my face after the accident in the Alps a decade ago. I thought of it as the most appropriate vehicle to advertise my Residua website. It was a joy to return to the old craft of cutting my pieces of writing, pasting than onto the postcards, affixing stamps onto them, and so forth. The feel and weight of a thick wad of cards I produced gave me an enormous pleasure. Sweet memories of my massive mailings in London and Reading flooded my mind. Yes, I was determined to return to my postcards as soon as possible. All that I would need for it was still available in Motovun, including many copies of the card made after the fall. But the enthusiasm evaporated by the morning. When I was fully awake, I realized I was bereft of the kindred souls worth the effort. The few friends I do have around the world regularly visit my website, anyway.