Every envelope is potentially the container of a thought. A container that’s entrusted to unknown hands and means of transport. When opening an envelope containing a letter, a flower, a photograph, we come into contact with another presumed personality. A personality that’s translated by the indication of one or more signs. The envelope is therefore the skin of an action and of a thought, the child of many coincidences between the senses, logic, meaning, etc… In this case it is the skin that is tattooed, in a radical way, with the advertising phrases of the sex shops and peep shows around Time Square. Underneath the skin, inside the envelope…obviously, nothing.