Love to his soul gave eyes; he knew things are not as they seem. The dream is his real life; the world around him is the dream.
Beauty is not an image or a comparison of images. It is an act of the mind – a completely personal act. There is no beauty without context, without a relationship between an I and a you, face to face. If you do not understand, I will have to consider you dangerous, mad, and shameless. For you do not give up easily. You are a modern man. For you, fences are made to be jumped.
What is beauty? It’s what you love.
Sublime tobacco! which, from east to west,
Cheers the Tar’s labor or the Turkman’s rest;
Which on the Moslem’s ottoman divides
His hours, and rivals opium and his brides;
Magnificent in Stamboul, but less grand,
Though not less loved, in Wapping or the Strand;
Divine in hookahs, glorious in a pipe,
When tipped with amber, mellow, rich and ripe;
Like other charmers, wooing the caress
More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;
Yet they true lovers more admire, by far,
Thy naked beauties – Give me a cigar!
Photo by Nicolas Tikhomiroff: Orson Welles, 1964
Sunday afternoon I was sitting by the shore at Alki Beach when this music came up on my iPod. The combination of time, place, sight and sound gave me big big chills.
I can’t replicate the moment for you, but here is the music. Now go find your moment.