Between the outputs

Flaws are cheap and forgeable too, so we aren’t special because we’re imperfect.

When the act itself is the point, we reveal ourselves with the care we put in.

When cheap proxies no longer signal much, we don’t lose the ability to signal care.

We’re mourning the loss of easy proofs of humanity and mistaking those forgeable outputs as all that humanity is.

The integrity of the human touch reveals itself over time. You can forge her all the heartfelt love letters you want, but it shows in every missing act.