My eyes were drawn to a reconstituted card catalogue crammed full of colorful postcards from all over the world – souvenirs of another place, another time. The musty smell of old papers hung in the air as I sorted through the postcards: brightly colored images of well-manicured topiaries, animals, beaches, caverns, cathedrals, restaurants and motels. My enchantment with postcards grew out of my yen for travel. I’m not a travel junkie (can’t afford the habit), not yet anyway. But I wouldn’t mind becoming one.