Anyone in a lost moment, a moment of dropping completely in, is beautiful - no matter who they are or what they think of themselves. When you drop completely, you get directly in touch with the hard-to-handle loveliness of all; you almost can't stand it, and anything you're able to ignore otherwise you can't ignore now - primal things, soul, "all the wants and hungers".
Meditation, not in a perfumed room, but the real meditation of being in a foul mood on an "ugly" day before the ocean, alone on a rock or walking a rainy shoreline. Everything clears in a moment of deep, running pain.
In the jagged coasts, the wet skies, trash in the gutters, dirt on skin...also in things deeply, anciently primal: almost intangible oldness.
That ancient intangible. No matter how far we try to get from it, we won't outrun it. Even humans are only a step or two from wild, a pure and simple and intelligent wild. Our disembodiment is a choice, and maybe even beyond that, a fraud. Or not even. Maybe just a trick of the light.