I adore the imperfect hand. The scratchy line. The wobble of a voice. The vulnerability of the human spirit.
There are few things that draw my eye more in an unexpecting moment than something slightly askew.
It shows humanity, the beauty of effort, the day to day, little moments of life. Nature is only perfect because she is unapologetic of her perceived flaws.
We like to give ouself the excuse of "it won't be good enough" to hold ourselves back. But diversity is what pushes our spirit beyond the mundane. Without imperfection, we would amount to nothing of greatness. Without the courage to embrace our curves and crosses, our scribbles and blotches, we are but cogs in the machine.