Many of the animals traveled in pairs or groups. If they had the opportunity they would rest their head on another's back or curl up close to another. One goat decided that it was going to stand on the back of a pig, who took about 30 seconds to even realize there was something amiss. Even separated by cages, the creatures would sometimes poke their noses through the bars, hoping for contact.
As I ran my fingers on the nose of a goat, my friend joined me with some food. He held out his hand and the goat swallowed the feed up within three seconds. Later when we went over to the llama pen and tried to put a quarter into the feed machine, one of the llamas stuck his nose in the slot, hoping to get the food before we got to it. We took pictures and video and laughed, wandering off to the next part of the fair.
We traveled in a pack that day just as the animals did, roaming from pig race to food stand at the agricultural fair. We were like animals, eating everything we could get our hands on. But there's little difference between us and the animals because like us, the animals also craved connection.
Our relationships with others form us; they create our personalities, our interests. We need them. We crave them. Even when I sit alone in my apartment, terrified of the outside world, I still long for conversation, an unsolvable paradox. As much as I hate people, I love people. As much as that pig probably hated that goat who stood on its back, it probably accepted it.
It's why I was so drawn to the stories in our third issue, which tended to come back to this feeling of connection. When we meet someone who understands us, magical, creative things happen. When we're on a big project and people are getting in our way, we don't want to upset anyone. We're always thinking about our connections and relationships and wanting to understand them at their core.
Even if we are separated by barriers, we still want to try and poke our nose through and reach out.