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I have never understood why some people consider "art", like some splattering of paint on a canvas, to have "soul", and a working tool to be soul less. My 458 has save my ass at least as many times as any weapon I carried in Vietnam and by that measure I suppose could be classified as my "soul mate"
That is an interesting perspective. Reminds me of when my dad passed some years ago, my young sister reached into his tool box and pulled out a particular well worn small ball peen hammer from a drawer that contained maybe 30 or so hammers and declared it hers. It is a ball peen hammer manufactured on an assembly line like millions of others, but to her it was special. To most just a tool, but to her it held a very different and significant meaning.
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