Samuel looked away from the window when he was spoken to again, tearing his gaze away from the feathered bodies flitting about in the warm sun and clear water. "Actor?" He repeated. "No, not necessarily. You might like to think of me as a director." He did like the way that sounded. "I show scenes from famous plays and books and stories, poems and songs, let them play out. People do love to see the scenes almost... immortalized." He sighed, remembering his creations. How beautifully they hung in the light, in the dark, their shiny eyes, smooth skin, the way their clothes hung like thin curtains.