Made elite by the accident of their preservation, here representatives of earthly alien
civilizations stand sentry;
Objects peculiar and enigmatic to the crowds of gazers who float directionless and dazed
through the cool airy corridors and vaulting galleries.
In this exceptional place aloof remnants of remote pasts, though silent, actively seek
to live again in mortal imaginations.
Most passing minds remain dark; the murmuring gazers are nearly all cursory
in their explorations.
Pallid, rigored bodies of cold marble, bronze festering with inexorable green decay, and
jagged shards—the orphaned red and black wreckage of once-elegant flowing clay lines—
Remain insensible and meaningless under fleeting, incurious glances.
And yet the survivors are not frustrated in their pursuit.
A skilled and studied few walk among the gazers, speaking history, sparking understanding
and recognition and igniting new, living meanings in the minds of those who draw near.
The very breath of their words resuscitates these ruined remnants of past centuries, and the
survivors breathe once more.
If only for a moment, the passions, beauties, terrors, and toils of a distant and dead antique