Magata

beauty does not live inside the object. not yet.

a pearl before it is worn. a gemstone before it moves. what are they — cold, waiting, simply themselves?

perhaps beauty needs a body to exist at all. skin that warms. breath that shifts the weight of a pendant. a collarbone that gives a sphere somewhere to rest.

or perhaps the object was always already beautiful — and we only notice when it touches us.

maybe that is what beauty is. not inside the object. not inside the body either. somewhere between the two — in the moment of contact, the moment of warmth, the moment you stop thinking about it and simply feel it is there.