Liora and Beauty as Attentional Coherence

Liora once watched a crowd fall silent without knowing why.

There was no announcement. No signal. Just a gradual settling, like snow. Conversations thinned. Movements slowed. Even the restless ones stopped checking their devices.

At the centre of the square stood nothing remarkable — a temporary scaffolding wrapped in pale cloth, breathing slightly in the wind. It didn’t represent anything. It didn’t explain itself.

But it gathered attention the way a basin gathers rain.

People later said they found it beautiful. But Liora knew that was backward. The beauty wasn’t a judgment — it was the afterimage of something else.

For a moment, the field had stopped fragmenting.

And everyone felt the relief.