Transience seems heavier this year—not the least insubstantial or aesthetic or poetic as drifting cherry petals might suggest.

Transience wipes towns from maps. Transience waits on the floor of an evacuation centre surrounded by neatly taped cardboard and folded heaps of blankets. Transience accepts kindergarten graduation certificates on behalf of two missing daughters.

In mere minutes Transience shatters taken-for-granted concepts: a safe country, a place to call home.

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