Picture a straight, flat seashore on the Atlantic side. Seagulls would glide and screech. In a spot where a very small river flows into the sea, human presence has widened the estuary and turned it into a harbour. It is called Beakport. The whole thing is no more than a hundred metres long. A few pleasure boats moor in it regularly but most vessels are special aluminium barges used to gather mussels, oysters and clams. 

On the inland side of the harbour stands a black wooden structure that looks as if it is going to collapse any moment. It is a restaurant of sorts where you can order platters of oysters, clams or moules marinières with chips and a bottle of dry white wine. 

At the mouth of the harbour stands the smallest lighthouse you’ve ever seen : no higher than a flagpole. All around are fields of high grass and reeds. There is also a donkey who occasionally shatters the peace with loud, heartbreaking remarks.

The place is peaceful and flat. You could easily describe it as “big sky country”. I took Isabelle there once. She loved it, though she did not say so at the time. I met her again a couple of years later. “Oh !” she cried out, “Could we please go back to Beakport ? It is so beautiful !”

Now, I would never say that Beakport is ugly. It’s got charm. I can imagine a painter evaluating its potential for a series of watercolours, but I would never advertise it as the sort of beauty spot that one cannot afford to miss. It is a nice little place, that’s all. 

So, what is beauty in the billions of circuits of our brains ? What could have triggered such a reaction in Isabelle’s mind ? Did Beakport touch on some fleeting impression going back to her early childhood ? Does it subconsciously symbolise happiness ? Has my friend improved it in her imagination, and would she be disappointed if we went back ?

“Beauty and the mind !” Nice title for a PhD dissertation. Leaning down over the edge of the human soul, one can only feel scared and dizzy.