Whenever I think about buying something brand new I always visualize what it will look like in five to seven years. I think about rust and fading, scratches and oozing glue from unskilled but good intentioned repairs. What I discover in those thoughts sometimes makes me smile and sometimes makes me sad because I realize that I know I will love whatever it is more after time has left it's mark than I do now. There is a beauty in the damage.
I love damaged people too. The pared down wisdom of someone who has been through tragedy draws me like the proverbial moth to a flame. I want to listen to the stories they are loathe to tell and bathe in the neurotic need to hide pain behind a smile or a laugh. Undercurrents of experience line every word or artistic expression. There's something comfortable about damaged people. A feeling of home.
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