The party started early and ended late. Some people are made to be together – though often not in groups as big as this. Like some dusty love song, this crew could not quit each other, regulars on Walton Place, as integral as the kitchen. By 5:30 on Fridays they were over-populating the bar, pushing the conventioneers to the side tables. They ate a bit, drank a bit more, and laughed – my, did they laugh. The uproar made it good to be back out, among people again, and provided a bit of vindication to those whose trust in humanity had not cratered during the crisis. Stepping back from it now, it seems like their lives overlapped into one another, in the ethereal synergies of friendships, and physically, in their manner and dress. A contour drawing of one continuous line, eliciting eye and cheek, hairline and lapel. Friends are friends, one hopes, praying they don’t become something else. After even short periods of solemn absence, the noise of affection summons like a gathering bell, leading some to find their better places among other’s hearts.

–Danny Grosso