And on our left, you will see the last of her kind, the Loner. As you know, she finds shelter in the corner of small rooms or in the middle of a cacophony. Today, we are lucky enough to see her alone against the greenery, bright as pearl and plain as chalk. Notice how she evades eye contact with every person she meets, her eyes glassy to tiles or denim or the spot right in the centre of your nose. Normally, she gets fed criticism disguised as compliments; since it's almost feeding time, you should see the impassioned way our zoo keepers throw insults at her. She catches each with the tip of her tongue and swallows them deep down with a swig of white wine. It's certainly a sight for sore eyes.
One thing you might not instinctively know about the Loner is that deep in her genetic makeup, her cells desperately desire the pack. Attention. Though she travels alone, watch as she eyes the group of wolfish girls who howl in a language she doesn't understand and lick each other's mane down. How her pupils dilate as if they were prey and her pulse matches the speed of the rain in her native terrain. In the black hours of the early morning, you can spot her copying these bejewelled females, pawing at her reflection in an attempt to make her own dull fur is a coat of glossy feathers. Zoologists hypothesise that this reclusion is merely an effect of adaptation, an instinct that prevents her inability to say the right things from being targeted by those above the social hierarchy. Essentially, she is a being who shouldn't have survived the fittest.
But let's move on now. The Loner, after a few seconds of observation, will bore you due to her mundane features and lacklustre speech. After all, there's nothing entertaining about someone who is severely unhappy with her disposition but does nothing to change it. For who would ever want to see an animal choose to be caged?