Slim hands with long fingers or short, that grasp forth. The nape of a neck that rises steeply to lose itself in the forest’s edge of the hair, the tender curve of the skin behind an ear, the mysterious mussel of the navel, the flat pebbles of the knee-caps, the joints of their ankles, which a hand envelops to hold them back from a leap-and beyond the farther and still unknown region of the body, much older than it, much more worn, open to all happenings: this face, always this face which they know so well. For they have a body only at night and most only in the arms of a woman. But with them goes always, ever present their face.
Marcel Duchamp on the work of Man Ray