‘People judge appearances as though somewhere in their minds an ideal of beauty of the human form exists, a form they would recognize if they saw it, thought they do not expect they will ever will. It exists in the imagination. Emily Dickinson, spending most of her time in her parents’ attic, once wrote about the power of imagination to envision the beautiful: „I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea, Yet I know how the heather looks, And what a wave must be.” Kenneth Clark observed in