Yesterday morning – rain, wind, a slight chill in the air – I walked totally wrecked and at snail pace towards the bookshop. Voucher in hand, lots of titles written down on paper just in case my memory checks out on me again. For a while now I had been looking at certain books, longing to buy them someday. That day came yesterday. Proud as a turkey and all dolled up, I went to Chapters in Dublin and kept pushing the elevator buttons to speed up to deliver me the second-hand part of the shop. As I left the elevator, right in front of my eyes stood Friedrich Nietzsche. He looked proud and dapper in a new jacket, and I had to agree he looked better than I did. I ran towards…