The Gilded Hour

To you at the revolving door,

Welcome to the Storm Post Office. This letter comes to you from New York, 1929, on black-teal laid paper with a botanical stamp that never grew anywhere. Down on Wall Street the ticker tape still spills its numbers under copper lamps, and the skyscrapers step upward like an opened fan. Everyone is sure tomorrow will be brighter.

A novel about this city ends with a line we keep folded inside this envelope: "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." — F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1925)

Here, letters travel slowly, slowly enough to let you look back once. Write one whenever you are ready; the rain will keep it safe.

Yours, until the rain lets up

Storm Post Office

1929 · New York