Walk into a great reading room and the atmosphere shifts before you take a seat. The air feels still. Sound seems to soften. Light gathers gently across tables. People speak, if they speak at all, in whispers.

We tend to think of benches as background objects — humble, utilitarian pieces of street furniture scattered across our parks and plazas. But benches are far more than places to rest. They are instruments that shape how we inhabit space, how we relate to one another, and even how we experience time.

Step out of your front door and pause. Before your eyes adjust to the morning light, your ears are already working overtime. Traffic growls. Sirens pierce the air. Music leaks from cafes.