My idea of beauty is far from normal. I find the broken, abandoned, and macabre beautiful. I wish I could tell you why I find these strange things beautiful, but after years of trying to figure it out, I’ve just given up on it.
The closest explanation I can come up with is that I find these old things beautiful because I know they have a story to tell. The older, more destroyed a thing is, the more I find it beautiful.
But I promise I’m not some mournful crypt keeper who only things about the decay of random things. I also find flowers, leaves, water, and mountains beautiful. Hey, maybe that’s one more thing to add to the possible explanation list. Maybe I just like things that have been forgotten by mankind and overtaken by nature.