underneath

we sat

four strangers united by the pool, different tales, far from home

the fool is loud, a jester with his belled hat forgotten in the room, his heart across the ocean, his home in her smile

the one is loud but hurt, trying to figure out how to move on from heartbreak

the other is distanced, guarded but in need for acceptance

the last is free

the fool just conducts the symphony of disparate songs, blends them into a harmony of laughter

he finds common ground through uncommon humor

winding the four into a group

a week feels like a lifetime when every night is spent joking, learning, bonding

the salesmen and auditors, the peach farmers and strangers

all woven into a tapestry

one week in atlanta, a stranger group of strangers, home away from home, laughter filling the air

still the fool watches and writes

spinning yarn from the fibers around him

this is when he is truly alive

when the words and smiles become a plethora

if he could stop daydreaming of her for a moment, lost in her, surrounded by them, content for the first time in his life

he waves his baton and keeps it all going, unaware of the threads, just trying to see

the painting underneath

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