Not sure why we keep all the broken stuff in storage. Maybe we think we'll get around to fixing them one of these days. But they sit there taking up space, asking to be fixed or recycled or put out of their misery, of being non-functioning. What could be worse than having no purpose, being useless? We ask ourselves, Do inanimate objects have a soul? Like plants have feelings? Do they all have to be alive to be a part of something real? We're all of us made mostly out of the same material anyway-- just in different measure. What exactly is the "spark of life"? And what is the meaning of dead? Does dead take away or change a name? The same way we say, "John's body"? What we mean is that it's no longer John. We say machines aren't alive or dead. Makes a soul wonder. Makes a soul question. And no answer is acceptable or right. So, we move along collecting objects that serve no purpose. That's what we do. And we attach sentiment and nostalgia to some of them as part of memory, to hold some value.
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