Hi Kyniska. Thank you for responding. I never thought about it that way — about having lost something or someone of immense value to me. The thing is, I lost EVERYONE in my life when I was young. Mother, father, my whole family. We were torn apart by dysfunction, and when I left home, I never looked back. It’s funny, when I was young, some of my few fond memories were antiquing with my mother and grandmother and aunt. It was the only thing that made those three women happy. They would search for weeks for a specific thing and become so angry when they couldn’t find it, or if someone else got it. It would practically destroy my grandmother and aunt (my mother was not like that though). I think I attach happiness to finding something precious that no one else can have. Like, a replacement for my childhood or the people in my childhood.At then end, I have to think to myself ‘if there was a fire, you would lose it’, or, ‘there are a million people in the world that didn’t get the book either’. Eventually I do let it go. But it takes some tremendous power. So thank you for suggesting a root to something deeper. It’s odd. If I had gotten them, I would have been thrilled, but I would have put them on my shelf and probably not read them for a long time, or thought about them much after that. Not that I wouldn’t have appreciated them, but I think the acquisition is where I feel a certain power or a sense of completion…