Beauty resists being photographed. What exists in the image is the death of what the image carries, not its heart, as we too often imagine or pretend. To photograph beauty is to become the representative of those forces that would silence it, and distribute little perfect copies of its corpse for public scrutiny, trading and celebration. I suggest something radical. Stop participating in the assault. Set the camera down. Forget the images. Touch the sources, directly. Not merely with your eyes or hands, but with your heart.