Age is beautiful. Living in a country that's hyper obsessed with youth, I value age, ironically. I like the stories the wrinkles and folds on a person's body convey about his/her life's hardship and pleasures. The winkled lips of a smoker, the crow's feet of someone who's smiled or squinted too much, the scowl of someone who has been perpetually sad are all revealed on the human face. Muscles have memories and every experience leaves a visible trace on the body.