Does something that you cannot heft in your hands have less value, physically and emotionally, than something that does?  This is something I've been juggling with for a while, especially when it comes to books.  Books are my addiction.  Having a book in my hand elicits a response that fills me with joy.  But, is it the actual papery thing tied up with sting or is it the contents of it that are important?  As I sit and write these words, I am surrounded by books.  Having a quick count on the walls either side of me, there are about 380 books on the shelves.  Hardback, paperback, signed first editions, special editions, some more loved than others, all wonderful and utter dust magnets.  Looking at them, they pull memories from my life.

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