Her freckles. They were so beautiful.

I only noticed how beautiful they were when I saw what she was blind to.

--Stripes over dots. Dots are just circles and circles aren’t perfect they’re the farthest from perfect. They have no edge no line, the only non-polygon shape. Stripes, they’re lines, perfect lines. Lines can be scattered about and still be in harmony but dots are to differential. You scatter them about and they stain your skin, never in harmony. Just scattered. Just there.--

Her freckles. They were scattered about her nose and cheeks in perfect harmony. Like rain drops on her skin, they didn’t stain. They were light in color and if you cared perfect attention to her face you could count all 27 of them. And if you loved her you would know she has 5 on the left side of her neck where she liked to be kissed, 2 on her right wrist, and 3 on her right ankle. And she hated dots for how further imperfect they made her. And she could go on about her ‘dots’ as she called them and how she wished they were stripes. But what she didn’t notice was that the three freckles on her right ankle lined up perfectly to make a slightly angled line. They laid in harmony with her, she just couldn’t see it. Her freckles.