What is beautiful to me is beauty of the ephemeral, beauty of the infinite. I love when Roland Barthes says: « What photography can indefinitely reproduce happens only once ».
And the poem « Beauty Bright » by William Blake
Sleep!Sleep! Beauty bright,
Dreaming o’er the joys of night;
Sleep!Sleep!in the sleep
Little sorrow sit and weep.
Sweet Babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.
As thy softest limbs I feel,
Smiles as of the morning steal
O’er thy cheek, and o’er thy breast
Where thy little heart does rest.
O! the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep.
When thy little heart does wake
Then the dreadful lightnings break,
From thy cheek and from thy eye,
O’er the youthful harvests nigh.
Infant wiles and infant smiles
Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles.