When I wasjust a young man liked things shiny and new,

as the years have gone by I have grown to appreciate a speckle of rust, a layer of dust, a mottled patina

the middle aged me has a certain penchant not for pretty things but rather things that have been cast aside as useless and obsolete, tired things huddled in a corner feeling like they've lived a hundred lives, maybe because I do too?

oftentimes all it takes is a little attention to spark a grand resurrection

You see, I've found these things, they are so eager to tell their stories and continue their breath of life inhale tarnished, exhale cleansed

I seek out and smile at the perfectly imperfect and bask in their greatness of character I don't mind that they've lived a hundred lives, for in my heart they are reborn and in a way, so am I.

~Eric Vance Walton~