My disenchantment with the known universe is almost complete. Beauty revealed as nothing more than vain symmetry and hallucinatory pareidolia. If beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder you might as well pluck your eye out. Beware of false beauty, because that’s all the beauty there is. God needs not be beautiful.
And what else do you consoder beautiful?
False memories of said beauty.
The mirror image in a finite regression.
Always being ordinary and down to earth reaps beauty in it’s real form. Everything else is not beauty or real. As far I perceived it.
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‘Beauty’ and ‘real form’ in the same sentence. The Platonic plot thickens.
Perhaps beauty is a function of the principle of uncertainty writ large: the beholder uglifies everything he/she touches with his/her gaze.
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