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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"

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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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