Behold. Question.

Within much of what I have been, and amongst plenty of what I have seen, beauty has soothed me. Again, and again, it has explained surface and essence of things, and of non-things, to the point of manifestations in mild but deep rooted lip movements which are much more than smiles.

To the eye, beauty has been the purpose of witnessing nature, of being nature, and even of explaining nature. I have seen it as compensation for confusion, restlessness, nakedness. They say it makes things whole, by making opposites attract. And in the daily need to digest, and move, it is beauty that leads to what will be digestible, and bring automatic or wanted movements.

Hence, I did not question beauty — until now.

It was the sight of a ripe papaya cut in half, the shape of the seeds, their multitude, their shine, and their black green color, contrasting the red orange rosy hues of the moist fruit flesh. And I wondered, why such beauty? A day later, I placed a silver platter with stalks of broccoli near the window, wanting to photograph a common product backed by the light coming through the window, and seeing yet another multitude, I stared at these uncountable uniformed flowers which make up a broccoli head. I stared because the beauty hit me once more, and I wondered, once more.

Until now I thought to know, understand, or merely accept that beauty is logical. But why the omnipresent aesthetic, and the eye in constant search of it, and the perpetual efforts to emulate it? Why behold it as beauty, when beholding it is of no intrinsic aesthetic value, and the eye alone is not what beholds?

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