We can form an impression of someone by noticing their talents and qualities, good or bad—everything that appears on the surface. But if we really want to understand who they are, we must step into the darkness and acquaint ourselves with their flaws. The missing cog defines the machine. A picture is judged by a poor brushstroke, a dissonant chord makes a song fall apart. Or makes it interesting. That is the other side of the coin. Without our flaws we would be like a well-oiled machine, and our actions and thoughts could be predicted through simulation, if we only had sufficient processing power. That will never happen. Our flaws are a variable outside the scope of such a calculation, and they drive us to great achievements or to utterly despicable deeds. If you wanted to, you could say that this is what makes us human, imperfect and wonderfully interesting. You could also say that it makes us into reptiles, dragging ourselves along between heaven and earth, searching for something to fill the vacuum.
