Broken Beauty

There's a certain sense of breathlessness and awe at something so monumentally old and broken that it might never be repaired again. The rough edges, not enough to cut you but just enough to for you snag your clothes onto. Ruins, sea glass, a broken person, all draw you in, and its as if they never let you go. A whole perfect person might just be rarer than a unicorn, in this too-young, still-developing world of ours. Some unnecessarily search for that one person, who is perfect, to try and make some semblance of their life, while others look for the one person who is just as broken, the one person broken enough to stitch them back together. 

Its all about the allurement of something that isn't as perfect as its flaunted. A ruined castle, overrun by vines, is infinitely more striking then one in perfect condition with people bustling about. They have stood the test of time, but ultimately failed like all things do in the end. Its as if they show us all our times - our past - how we were, our present and our future - how we will be. Its comforting (not only to me, I hope) to know that no matter how old, no matter how broken we get - there is always a certain haunting beauty surrounding it.



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