Great Gatsby Tribute

I stood in awe of the scene forming around me in that giant, pasture of a yard, overlooked by its mansion counterpart, proud and magnificent. Hundreds of guests, some invited but most I expected not, sparkle as they trod around and socialize among the elite. I walk by the caterers who bustle around aiming to please each hungry guest and most importantly, the head of the house, he who is responsible for all of this. A stranger among most, I silently and modestly move my way here and there, wandering in search of my host. Carefully, I stride along the edges of the Olympic-sized pool, with its calm, yet silently foreboding shimmer.

And there he stood, tall and charismatic. The man with a modest smile and tender eyes, dressed to impress but fitting in seamlessly amongst the glamour of his guests. As the flurry of dancing catches my attention for a slight moment, I remember this party, like all of his parties, is not for him and his pride or vanity. It is for us, his friends and soon-to-be friends. It is for her.

My attention resumes to our encounter. I’m no longer distracted by the surrounding whirlwind of lights, and movement, and enchantment. In that moment all I could think about was this great, lonely man, patting my shoulder and calling me “old sport.”

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