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In an Austrian beer hall, an ancient copper light was hanging above an old wooden table. A winter wind caused the copper light to clink softly against a futuristic IKEA chandelier. The swaying lights cast odd shadows as they grazed one another. Modernity and history sweeping back and forth like mirror pendulums.

Under these shifting shadows, seven visitors entangled themselves. As they debated the cons of losing roots by moving too often, they were exploring the paths of each other’s histories. The girl with clear eyes recounted tales of love broken by distance. The beer snob lamented the loss of American IPAs. Someone attacked the German language, and someone else defended it. Someone coughed in a corner, someone laughed in a chair.

The wayward wanderers tried each other’s beer, tested each other’s wit and shared each other’s pain. They exchanged mystery for connection and tied bits and pieces of themselves to one another. As the moments passed, seasons flew by; summers in Mexico were traded for winters in Russia, springs in Paris became rainy seasons in Vietnam. The past became the present, and time stood still.

After what could have been lifetimes, but was barely more than a few hours, seven strangers had become more than friends. Their unique philosophies, their battle scars, and their bravery had earned them all passports of a single nation. They were compatriots in a type of loneliness each thought they alone could understand.

Under dancing shadows of past and future, seven travelers inadvertently bound themselves to one another, and joined the shifting sands of the nomad nation. Each shared laugh, every exchanged touch, tied lifelines closer together. In an Austrian beer hall under an ancient copper light, seven visitors left behind a single knot uniting their once disparate lives.

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