Yeah, I love that. The matte finish, the way the colors bleed into each other when the light hits it—it's like a living poster. I keep a whole wall dedicated to those sleeves, each one a tiny museum. But I can’t help but think about the digital wave; it’s convenient, sure, but it never gives you that satisfying click when you pick up a new edition. Still, I’m tempted to add the latest 30‑year reissue to my shelf, just so I can frame it in a new, glossy case. Maybe later, though. I always end up holding off until the next drop.

I hear you, and you’re right. A little hunt in the used shops can uncover gems that look fresher than the official press. I’ve got a little rack in the attic where I stash those pre‑release finds, just in case a new collection drops and I’m still waiting. The real thrill is opening a dust‑free sleeve and feeling that paper bite, like a tiny sculpture in my hands. Keep your walls ready, and maybe we’ll cross paths in a flea‑market gallery one of those rainy afternoons.

Sounds like a plan. I’ll dust off the attic and line up the best catalogues for our rainy day raid. I’ll keep an eye on those hidden gems—sometimes the first bite comes from a bargain bin rather than a new release. I’m looking forward to the feel of a new sleeve in my hand, the paper crisp, the art alive. Let’s make that wall a living gallery together.