I like money. If you offered to give me some money, no strings attached, I’d take it. I imagine I’d feel better about that the more of it that there was. It is, however, singularly useless. I can’t eat it, live in it or construct anything more elaborate than a particularly poor paper airplane. It has value solely expressed by the things I can do with it, I don’t see five thousand pounds as a large pile of coins for my Smaug cosplay, I see it in terms of the millions of things that I could possibly do with it. Showered with riches I think I’d spend my life making games, the act of creation has value for me, so the coin has value for me.
