The Gathering
We’re a group of ten in a small studio apartment, yet it doesn’t feel that way. Somehow we’ve managed to expand the walls, space itself an elastic material, stretching it until our tiny enclosure is transformed into miles of uncharted territory. Our voices rise as the night unfurls, the individual becoming the many: speaking not to one but several faces, laughing in a chorus, smiles expressed across different lips. A feast of food and drink, of conversation and revelry. Here the world has shrunken down to our humble plot of land; no tomorrow or yesterday, instead we are riding the great wave of the present. This primal gathering of body heat and comfort noise links us in an invisible chain extending centuries, a bond to dispel the shadows, the reassurance that our place in this vast, infinite space is not in question — there is meaning to the void; since the dawn of man we have answered it, countless times and forever, drawing closer, huddling against the dark with our hands raised to an unforgiving sky.
