As the crowd was trampling through the forest, there was a moment I saw under our feet.
It was broken branches, a pine cone, pine needles—all clustered together, arranged just so, as a portrait, as a sculpture, as a work of art.
I wish I could have taken a step back, crossed my arms, and considered the work longer. With my chin on my chest, leaning my head to the side, I could have walked slowly in a circle around it to see all the angles.
But it was on the forest floor, being trampled underneath so many steps of the crowd pushing forward to get through a narrow passing between two trees.
And it occurs to me now that it was special for that very reason, that even if I wanted to stop and consider it—crouch down, cross my arms, look at it—I couldn’t have. The extended period of appreciation was forbidden me because the crowd was moving too fast and pushing me forward. I couldn’t stop. I had only that quick glance.
So it was beautiful for two reasons. First, it was beautiful like any other art that appeals pleasantly to the sense of sight. Second, it was beautiful because it was forbidden. It was rare. It was a moment that passed. I couldn’t have stopped and considered it because the crowd, like the march of time, was pushing me along.
Perhaps this is why a young woman is beautiful. Why her body is a work of art. Because she is beautiful in the first way, of course. But also because she is transitory, ephemeral—like a flower that will wilt, like any other organic part of natural life that is born, grows up, grows old, and eventually passes away.
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is too young to be considered beautiful. For a period of time, during childhood during infancy still growing at that stage not yet ready to be revealed. But then there is the moment of revealing when the high school girl can wear the crop top when she starts going out to the football game and night.
Yet it is transitory like that cluster of broken branches and pine leaves on the forest floor. I cannot stand there and consider it forever. Just like the young girl will grow old. Her skin will wrinkle. It is temporary and it is beautiful for that reason.
ORIGINAL:
As the crowd was trampling through the forest, there was a moment I saw under our feet.
It was broken branches, a pine cone, pine needles—all clustered together as a portrait, as a sculpture, as a work of art.
I wish I could have taken a step back, crossed my arms, and considered had it not been on the forest floor, being trampled underneath so many steps of the crowd pushing forward just to get through that point, just to step over just to get past and it was special for that very reason that even if I wanted to stop and consider it crouched down, cross my arms. Look at it. I couldn’t have it was forbidden me because the crowd was moving too fast and pushing me forward I couldn’t stop. So it was beautiful art for two reasons. One that it was beautiful. Like any other art that it looked beautiful that it appeal to the senses of my sight. But the second reason was that it was beautiful was that it was forbidden. It was rare. It was a moment that passed. I couldn’t have stopped
and considered it because the crowd was pushing me along. And it was beautiful for that second tragic reason as well.
Perhaps this is why a young woman is beautiful. Why her body is a work of art. Because it is beautiful in that moment. Yes, of course.
But also because it is transitory ephemeral, like a flower that will wilt
like any other organic part of natural life that is born
is too young to be considered beautiful. For a period of time, during childhood during infancy still growing at that stage not yet ready to be revealed. But then there is the moment of revealing when the high school girl can wear the crop top when she starts going out to the football game and night. Yet it is transitory like that cluster of broken branches and pine leaves on the forest floor. I cannot stand there and consider it forever. Just like the young girl will grow old. Her skin will wrinkle. It is temporary and it is beautiful for that reason