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Beauty has always been a possible end of art, but never enough to define it or to be the reason for its existence.
Kant asserted that "A work of art is not the representation of a beautiful thing, but the beautiful representation of a thing" is always contradicted by the innumerable representations that have never been able to, nor will be able to, approach the infinite original beauty.
Beauty lies in fragility which is its strength, in the wonderful difference which is its equality, which fits and completes forming a whole.
This is a tribute to women, friends, girlfriends, lovers, companions, who are my sun, my storms; my sugar, my spices; my encounter, my loss; my dream, my madness.
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