It is 16:06 and you are on the phone with the receptionist of The Animal Sound Archive. “Did you know that animals are magical messengers? They speak directly to our souls.”

“Yes, I know that. I think the recordings are voice messages.”

“Have you ever tried to reply?

“You mean to the recordings?”

“Yes. It doesn’t work.”

Why not?

“Because they are recordings, of course! Besides, they don’t speak to me.”

“Then who do they speak to?”

“I don’t know. I wish I understood what they were saying. I don’t even know what they are talking about.”

“Their eyes are attentive and wary. They scrutinize us across a narrow abyss of non-comprehension.”

“Are you quoting John Berger?”

“Yes.”

Ironically, Berger suggests that it was their inability to communicate with us, or our inability to communicate with them, that made animals into such special companions. The magic is in their eyes that look at us, silently. The animal's silence guarantees its distance, its distinctness, its exclusion, from and of man.