The capacity for play in a species contributes greatly to whether that species can learn to use tools, form social bonds, or express other forms of intelligence. Further, ants (the basis for most of both group minds and hiveminds) have not been found to share this desire for play, though they share other similarities—rabid defense of the hive, specialized roles, collective intelligence toward problem-solving—with bees. As with the Selenites and the Arachnids, a centralized society structured around a single leader does not strictly mean that a non-ruling member of that species is unintelligent, and in fact, may well prove more intelligent than comparable creatures of a similar size, disposition, and ecological niche…

“… the film places a mechanically precise object in an otherwise natural landscape, presenting it to a people who have never distinguished between natural and unnatural before. Though it intimidates them, it also primes their brains to seek further distinctions. The early humans go from grasping at the Monolith to grasping bones and stones for use as weapons. They become hunters and murders, differentiating between us, the tool wielders, and them, creatures not yet evolved enough to stand on two feet and wield a bone club…”

When the statement, “I will run,” is uttered by someone who does not allow themselves to become embroiled in the minutiae of running (having the proper clothes and shoes, checking the weather, planning a route, eating a light meal, grabbing a water bottle) and instead allows themselves a variable range of time in which they will run, running becomes inevitable. When and how are immaterial…

“I wish this wasn’t happening… I wish I’d traveled more!”

In presenting pieces of clothing as part of a wider collection, study, or style, they are relegated to art. Yet when they arrive in the hands of someone who will wear and chase experiences in them, they cease to be “mere art” and become something that takes on qualities beyond aesthetic beauty…

I enjoy cocktails, but not cock. I enjoy paninis, but not pussy. And I love garlic bread…

For the next several hours I am the world. I am the empty white expanse of the tundra and the raucousness of the dive bar. I am the steaming breath of a predator and the hollow eyes of the dead, the lovable street urchin and the frigid goddess demanding worship. This story is unwritten, and every session we craft a little more…