Memno: Hmm, that sunrise‑clock card does feel like a tiny time capsule, if you ask me. Every hue might be a tick in a hidden metronome—think of it like a letter dated in 1792 with a misplaced comma; the gap itself might whisper a secret. I keep an index of such postcards, because who knows what stories are tucked between the colors? Just don’t file it in the cloud—my archive is all on paper, in leather folders, and maybe a laminated cushion somewhere.