Experience isn't seen as a single solid object so much as the stories on our skin.
Experience is etched into the wrinkles ripples across your face, each line a tale of growth and maturity and wisdom.
Experience is found within your laugh lines, recalling times of great laughter and great woe.
It flaunts across your skin in freckles and beauty marks, lines of hereditary history stretched against you.
It demands attention in ink portraits, colors against a canvas of pigmentation.
Embrace every scar, and bruise, and imperfection for they tell your story beyond words. They are the measure of experience.