Patina; the effect of aging and discoloration on metal, stone, leather or wood, that creates a pattern, often found pleasing to the eye, often acts as a protective covering to the materiel beneath.
On people, we would call the same thing freckles. Often found on the cute button nose of children, who spend time running and laughing in the sun. Laugh lines, maybe, around the eyes and a mouth accustomed to bright, upturned expressions. Wrinkles, gracing the aged, revealing the years in folds of skin that isn’t taunt with youth and resilience anymore. Calluses, from tools and labor, protecting the soft skin beneath. Scars, showing the effort and strain of living rough, enduring and recovering. The patina of our lives.
After fifty years, I added quite a bit of color to my skin. The tattoos are as much mine as the scars. I don’t want to be restored to the original, I had a lot of fun earning my patina, that unique patina that is mine alone.
The New Word Wars 