This is what I think.
Every trait of ours is a person, an incident that happened, an experience you had. Without a trace, but a fullproof evidence of their existence in your life, every single soul leaves mark in your life.
Every human that ever played a role in the play of your life, is now the paint mark on the posture.You.
Even the passing handsome face or the sharp glaze, awkward but prompt, at the theatre. The toy store keeper when you were two. Someone you met ages ago. Someone you met last minute. Someone you are with now.
Who are we if not for them? What would we become if not for their existence? How would we find ourselves if not for their share in our lives?
The canvas that you are now, is all the artists that once or more drew on and filled colours in.
Every bit is peculiar. Every shade gives a different light to the pioneer.
This I feel.
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