When one wishes to debate about such a topic, one must always return to the simplest of questions regarding it, which, in this case, also seems to be the hardest.
What is Beauty?
Is it a particular brand of appearance? Or is it merely something that is pleasing to the eye?
Is it something that is pleasing to a certain group of persons, or is it something that describes anything that anyone finds especially pleasing?
In the landscape where I paint my own world, there is no absolute beauty.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder; as the famous saying goes, and I, for one, full-heartedly agree.
Beauty is in what one sees in the world, and what one sees might not be what others see in its stead.
Perhaps I find the clouds beautiful because I see faces and brush-strokes in them, and maybe you find the trees beautiful because you see life and warmth and home in them.
Maybe I don’t find the rivers beautiful, because all I see is running water and fish that aren’t the colourful creatures we made them out to be in our childhood, but perhaps you find the rivers beautiful because you see flashes of sunlight and the fish that dart from invisibility to visibility.
And maybe I find beauty in pain, and silence.
And just maybe, you find it in happiness and love.