One of the greatest kindnesses that went into our creation as humans is the ability to forget pain. Without that, no woman would ever have another baby after her first, we would never dare fall in love again and we would never run after our first fall. Yes, we are able to forget pain and it gets archived into our memories as as small pang and nothing more. But the scars, they remain. Don’t you have scars that always draw a story out of you? Aren’t some of these wounds coated with nostalgia and some bitter-sweetness? Don’t we look at them with an almost sense of endearment?