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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473825" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>New Year 2012</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473825" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">At last year’s New Year bash in the ballroom at the hotel, had two <br>hundred guests, this year 45 guests and the room was chilly and <br>had melancholic echo of yesteryears. A luxury liners’ last voyage, <br>ready to be chopped into bit and sent to the voracious furnaces <br>of China’s famished thirsts for steel.<br> And we, the 45, where stalwarts from bygone epoch the last of <br>a shrinking middle class. Too many waiters, too many cooks, they <br>knew what was coming next, the dole. Who needs a flat footed <br>waiter or a cook you can’t teach new tricks? <br>Twelve o’clock we toasted one another but our joy rang hollow in <br>the big room. The party was supposed to continue till four in <br>the morning as it had before, most guests left quarter past twelve; <br>I can only hope the crew, we dastardly deserted, drank the wine <br>ate food we left behind and had a proper wake.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Oskar+Hansen">Oskar Hansen</a></strong></div>