Doisneau: Underground Press

Were I to fall in love all over again, it would be

with this low ceiling, with the calm  faces

of  the two men going about their craft,

and with her, now twisting towards them,

beautiful, defiant and free.

Because we forget how beauty was once itself

and nothing else, how it held its stellar

moment in attic and cellar.

Because that is what beauty is, this compact

with time and the silence of  concentration

on one subversive operation,

that requires courage and sacrifice

and never comes without a price.