There is beauty in aged, worn things.
You could look at this and lament the places where the finish has worn off, down to the bare wood, and say, “Whoa, that needs varnish.”
Or you could appreciate how it has served a purpose over the years, functional, dependable, giving people climbing or descending something firm and steadying to grasp.
You could think about all the people who’ve been welcomed here, who’ve climbed those steps with anticipation, and imagine their invisible handclasps, though many of them will not meet each other in this world.
You could marvel at the imperceptible burnishing work of skin, one palm at a time.