It might be true, as the poet Ocean Vuong phrased it, that eyes are the loneliest creations. While they bask in so much of the world’s color and shape, they can never touch these things. Light floods from the succulents of Earth, from the thick bulbs of paint on a canvas and into our line of sight where the eyes understand that these things are both beautiful and unknowable. Each eye is a precious part of ourselves, yet they are unaware that beside them is another just like them — hungry, and empty, and alone.