I am struggling, still, with the old book. I wish I had not done anything to it. I cannot see how I can over come the feelings of destruction. It sits there on my shelf and I don't know if I should throw it away, or keep it as a grim reminder of what I do not want to do. Every time I get it down I shuddder. I have retraced my steps to the place where I thought it might be a good idea, and returned not knowing when the repulsion/fear 'whatever' happened. For the moment I will let it sit there. Knowing I have defaced something that is, no was, valuable. Maybe I will just have to parcel it up making sure it is secure and cannot be opened and use it for something else. Then again, out of sight out of mind. Sigh, then another even deeper.