I typed a letter last summer. It was neatly folded in thirds and sealed in an envelope. Name and address were typed slightly to the left of center and it was run through a postage meter. The red ink post mark was dated Aug. 25, 2003, Hadley MA. August the twenti-fifth, and I put the letter in my messenger bag. For the next 8 months it tossed & turned in my bag along with umbrellas, CDs, oranges, books, cameras, and keys like sea cobbles in a churning surf. I took the letter out today, all soft and worn, the name and address nearly illegible. I tore it into thirds and threw it away.