“He was 11 years old and he was in Agnes’s apartment. There was a rose in a glass.
He stood looking at the flower and Agnes saw him, so she picked up the rose and said:
—Isn’t it beautiful?
And he said, —Yes, it’s beautiful.
She then placed the rose behind her back and asked:
—Is it still just as beautiful?
And he said, —Yes, it’s still beautiful.
You see, the beauty is not in the rose — it is inside you.”
To think that beauty is not in what we see, but in what we reconstruct.
Emotion now fills all the space. What remains is to translate it into ourselves.
Only if we remain sensitive to the world will we be able to move through it,
and continue walking through it emotionally…
