Over the rumble and wave I saw flashes of color like a waterfall of exotic flowers or maybe more like the roar of sponsor marked race cars coming off the first turn. Some were taking their time clustered and giggling busy with the latest news. Others kept their own pace frantically pouring over dates and names from the early twentieth century. A group of guys in shirts and ties borrowed from dads or older brothers talking about tonight’s game.
For 5 minutes this glorious freedom induced chaos continues before the halls are open and only the faint voices of future knowledge echo. In these few precious moments of barely suppressed childhood the young leaders and thinkers, doctors and parents, enter into an alternative reality that is unique only in that moment. They are soldiers in a foreign land gathered around coffee and a make shift fire between shellings. A glimpse of what life would be. These conversations leapfrog every hour. The subjects change but the characters grow.
In those moments of release, relationships begin and die. Heros are made and spirits are broken. Hearts are warmed and halls grow cold. These spaces are filled with a unique kind of magic.
