Not the tools but the people. Not the office but the minds. Not the dress but the confidence.

The excitement. The enthusiasm. The joy. It’s unmatched.

Everyday the same man could be seen sitting by a cheerful stream. He would point to the fish to tell them which way to go. They barely acknowledged him. One day, the man wasn’t there. And the fish just kept swimming.

The start of something new. The end of what was. Each beginning starts with an end.

I sleep standing up. No two patterns on my coat are the same. Who am I?