I picked up the two halves and made a whole. The select button proved responsive to my touch. I spun up Depeche Mode's Never Let Me Down Again and went on as usual. It didn't let me down. My iPod now has a small dent in its top left corner. This is a battle scar that gives it character and shows that it belongs to me. Only now do I realize how much in love I am with this strict machine, what a significant part of my life it has become. All the noises that I like, the music that makes sense of my existence, it's all contained on this one device - an auxilliary organ - biomechanically fused to my body. Having it removed would be like severing a hand. Apple has enslaved me - the iPod senses my mood, presides over my waking hours. Sometimes I'll awaken it just to check the battery bar, like a paranoid parent shaking an infant awake just to be sure that it's still breathing.
Mine's still breathing.
"See the stars they're shining bright; everything's alright tonight"