This room seems like a gallery. There are many figures in many different postures, but they all carry the mark of a single sculptor. Each face, each figure carries the same fleeting look. All temporary additions to the exhibit. They all seem to pass through without leaving any of themselves behind. All have created little worlds around them, not to be intruded upon by inhabitants of neighbooring galaxies.
What have they come here for, if not communion? This would seem the appropriate place for it. The genuine complexity of humanity is very apparent to me in these moments. I conclude this flock of mismatched fowl has come to the commotion for quiet. We seek solace, but we seek it in the midst of a crowd. We seek safety and familiarity, but we seem to find it in the midst of strangers.