Beautiful because of imperfection.

There is a kind of beauty in imperfection.
--Conrad Hall

Actually there are quite a few things I want to ramble on about, but somehow I kind of refuse to do so. You ever had this feeling that you feel reaching out, but yet refuse to reach out to people? It gives you a certain feeling of solitude, which slowly kills you from inside, but a feeling of melancholy that actually gives you a certain sense of pleasure.

Recently I’ve been reviewing my thoughts of prettiness. What is pretty? And can something that is considered not completely perfect still be pretty? Or can it be pretty just because it’s not completely perfect? A definite uniqueness that adds to the prettiness within? Is such beauty not even considered prettier? I find it rather weird, too call something beautiful, because it is not. It is one step away from it, yet it makes it even more marvellous than it would have been, if it were complete.

I finally seem to understand why some of my memories are so beautiful. It's the imperfections in it that makes it unique as it is. It's not something we can simply replace anymore. So are the little imperfect things that surround us. The imperfection usually adds that extra side story to things, that makes it unique, and a marvel that only imperfection can give us.

Oh well enough rambling for today.

If you look closely at a tree you'll notice it's knots and dead branches, just like our bodies. What we learn is that beauty and imperfection go together wonderfully.
-- Matthew Fox