In the gap between what one wants to say (or what one perceives there is to say) and what one can say (what is sayable)

When do we get enough time to do all the things we mean to? I've got lists of places to travel to, all these postcards to send. Here's one of the dark steel exterior of a library in Omaha, NE. When I found it, I thought of you. I was going to tell you about what the libraries of the future will be like when books are obselete. We will miss the microfiche, the open stacks fingerprinted with their past lives. Information will be a stream of electrons on handheld devices viewed in gleaming white rooms. There is a story to tell on the back of this postcard. One of these days, look for it in the mail.