The first (and only) time I visited Paris, my husband and I were on a finite budget. My only purchase was a card I found on a rotating rack right on the Rue de Nord. I only have to look at that card again to see wide streets, smell the bread baking from the boulongeries and remember gawking at Pissaros and Sisleys while it rained outside the Impressionist Museum.
Now I make cards. Each one is assembled by hand, signed and dated. I like being a small part of the long tradition of this affordable craft.
