I like to think fondly on the appearance of age and how our bodies can communicate our souls long journey. Our eyes, skin, hair, tags, crevices, moles, cracks, and bags reveal a landscape of change and growth. Much like the places and objects we have interacted with, our body is a tablet upon which our experience has been absorbed. Hands that have created, hurt, damaged, endured, and beheld. A sun that has hit our back and at once been flanked but cold concrete or a mothers embrace, a friend's heavy slap, a creatures fur, hiding behind their master, their shield.