I believe in the beauty of flaws, in the untaintedness of the straying eyelash on your cheek and the wilting flowers with missing petals. the chipped teacup in the back of the cupboard, your ripped up ramblings and misplaced jigsaw pieces, the crease between your brows and the tea leaves that float to the top of the mug. the stuttered sentences and awkward laughter, grass stained dungarees and muddy footprints, sun kissed freckles and snails carrying cracked shells. the shimmering shards of a broken glass bottle, inky fingers and that speck of dust wandering aimlessly through the air.. grazed knees, crumbling sidewalks and colouring over the lines, the resonance of the raging sea, the smell of the rain mixing with mire, the scar on your left knee from your first fall, that one kink of hair reluctantly slithering through straightened strands and the way rain smudges mascara. Everything is perpetually flawed. We are living in a faulted world inhabited by dehumanised people who are stitched together entirely by each and every mistake, mark, fallacy... bound psychologically and physically by the chains they fabricate from their flaws and errors. Every single thing on this planet is beautifully out of place, in such a way that we get caught up in the thread of thoughts in our mind and lost in the seams of our skin. And our biggest error of all? The one problem that stands out more than unsymmetrical lips and the lies that leave them? The notion that if we start unraveling this yarn we can resew it into something "perfect", something ameliorated and improved, a notion of what we believe we should be. But that's the actual issue right there, that belief and acting upon it. Because if you do that, if you undo everything you hate about yourself and loosen your strands, there will eventually be no roots left to work with. You will become a prisoner to yourself...??