N° 014Paris
France · 1962
“The light on the Seine at six in the evening. I thought of you.”
Est. 1958 · A private collection
Three hundred and forty-two postcards, gathered over sixty years, from strangers and lovers, harbours and hillsides. An archive kept quietly, offered gently.

The Collection · 342 pieces
Hover a card to lift it from the shelf. Each one carries a message on its reverse — copied here, verbatim.
N° 014France · 1962
“The light on the Seine at six in the evening. I thought of you.”
N° 027Japan · 1978
“The blossoms fell like a slow, pink snow. Silence, everywhere.”
N° 041Greece · 1985
“White walls, blue doors, and a sea that never quite ended.”
N° 058Morocco · 1971
“An arch, a lantern, the scent of orange blossom in the courtyard.”
N° 072Italy · 1969
“Fog on the lagoon. The gondolier hummed something in dialect.”
N° 089Portugal · 1974
“The 28 climbing the hill, all yellow warmth against cream stone.”
By region
The archive travels widely. Some corners are dense, others still waiting for their first arrival.

The archive
Poste Restante began with a single card mailed to a name at a general delivery counter in Marseille, 1958. Its recipient never came. It was kept.
Six decades later, the collection numbers three hundred and forty-two — pressed carefully into linen boxes, each with its date, its sender, its silent journey.
This site is a slow window onto that archive. New cards are added on the first Sunday of each month.
342
Cards archived
68
Countries
1958
First arrival

Card of the month · July
Postmarked Lisbon, October 1974. The sender, one M. Alves, writes in a slanted, unhurried hand. The card travelled twelve days by sea and one by train before it came to rest here.
“The 28 climbing the hill, all yellow warmth against cream stone. I bought bread, I sat, I did nothing at all — and it was everything.”
Lisbon
Origin
Oct ’74
Postmark
13 days
In transit
Six decades, slowly
Moments the archive keeps returning to — the beginnings, the arrivals, the years the boxes grew heaviest.
Chapter 01 · 1958
The first postcard — a view of the Vieux-Port — arrives at Marseille’s general delivery. Its recipient never comes. It is kept in a linen box.
Chapter 02 · 1969
The collection outgrows its first box. A second is lined with tissue paper and set beside the window.
Chapter 03 · 1984
A bundle of thirty-one postcards from a single sender in Japan arrives, tied with a length of grey silk ribbon.
Chapter 04 · 2003
Every card is transcribed by hand into a leather ledger. The work takes two winters.
Chapter 05 · 2024
The archive opens a slow window online. New cards continue to be added on the first Sunday of each month.
Voices from the ledger
“There is a light here I have never known. I keep meaning to write more, and then the sea is loud again.”
“Tell mother the oranges are as she remembers. Tell father nothing; he will only worry.”
“The train is late, the coffee is bitter, the mountains are exactly the correct shape. All is well.”
Notes to a sender
A few gentle answers to the questions we most often receive at the delivery counter.
Correspondence
Send it, and its story, to the archive. Every letter is read; the best find their place in the collection.