StorefrontThere seems to be some confusion as to whether or not the building that contains “Speaking Volumes Books and Audio” is for sale. My response to the question is simple: “Can we ever really own anything?” Disregarding the notion that we only actually occupy a space the size of our two feet at any given time, and that any temporal connection to a physical space is fleeting at best, I have begun to ask myself whether I own a bookstore, or it owns me. I put this issue to the test when I returned to my childhood home in Hamilton. The teenager who resides in my old bedroom was a little over-the-top in his defense of his living space and Hamilton Police were a tad exuberant in the execution of their duties, but I did learn a valuable lesson. One is ill-advised to get into an argument with a person who keeps scorpions as pets.
I should also mention that I was contacted by Bobby Bambury, who claimed to be the son of Reginald Bambury, the so-called “Fiend of Flesherton”. He claimed to be conceived during a conjugal visit his mother had with Reginald while he was in prison, but it turned to be a different set of parents and a different prison altogether. It was also, alas, a different decade.
All this goes to say that the question of the potential sale of the building remains to be determined.
Suffice to say that I am here now, and can be reached for all your reading needs.