Explored an ancient city today. I felt so small, and just in awe of the architecture, the life lived and time passed. I realized afresh that the longer I walk this earth, the stronger I´m drawn to old things. I keep wondering why. For me, there´s an inherent beauty in old things--a beauty that isn’t just in their survival--it’s in the way time etches itself into them. The worn grooves of a cobblestone path, the softened edges of a brass door handle, the way copper deepens to rich green with years of touch and weather. What first looks like wear is really a story, layers of history pressed into every surface. The same goes for people—the laugh lines, the scars, the silver at their temples. Not flaws, but filigree~