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All and sundry sitting here, in that strange zeal of transition, with floating smiles and fleeting thoughts meeting each other in those awkward cross-room gazes. Some of that careful solace I’ve found in shared departure sits in my skull- that fractured solidarity of a vagrant shines in sympathetic smiles and soft eyes. I don’t quite know if the others find the same equanimity in divergence, if they’re galvanized by the unknown or daunted by discolored aspiration. Hope hangs above this all, in a fragile glass box- everyone’s bolting for a hammer.