Formerly, a letter was something that came from time to when we received with great joy and we kept perhaps forever. The letters were grown in our drawers until they even remembered people who had written, but one day, after many years, moving or looking for something, the letters appeared and it was as if the past return, as if these people were once again part of our lives.
However, the email has come to change that. Contacts are very prevalent, reaching the post our mailbox indiscriminately, the interesting thing mixed with the bland, the words people who want pps with many more or less disposable. And that accumulate to form a vast mountain that almost frightens us.
Neither Yahoo Gmail or put us in a hurry, but one day decided it is too much, to be cleared, go back to the end and we select boxes back and forth, over newer remote. Then we give delete, empty the trash ... and ready. Everything disappears into nothingness. And with that many hours spent in front of this screen, many thousands of words written and received much love and heartbreak, many meetings and many disagreements. Delete emails as they arrived: indiscriminately. And so we delete the pps passed from hand to hand mail that we receive as rain in May or write with all the enthusiasm in the world. Nothing exists because nothing is visible. Only memory is no Delete button , for the moment. Unless one day, "the German" take care of it.
However, the email has come to change that. Contacts are very prevalent, reaching the post our mailbox indiscriminately, the interesting thing mixed with the bland, the words people who want pps with many more or less disposable. And that accumulate to form a vast mountain that almost frightens us.
Neither Yahoo Gmail or put us in a hurry, but one day decided it is too much, to be cleared, go back to the end and we select boxes back and forth, over newer remote. Then we give delete, empty the trash ... and ready. Everything disappears into nothingness. And with that many hours spent in front of this screen, many thousands of words written and received much love and heartbreak, many meetings and many disagreements. Delete emails as they arrived: indiscriminately. And so we delete the pps passed from hand to hand mail that we receive as rain in May or write with all the enthusiasm in the world. Nothing exists because nothing is visible. Only memory is no Delete button , for the moment. Unless one day, "the German" take care of it.
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