There is a melancholy about this place; something which its bright windows, the cheerful smiles of its administrators, and the generally upbeat attitude of its residents do not - and perhaps could not bring themselves to - betray. No, it's something that one feels when faced with its stories, with its many faces: those arms as they rise, beckoning a visitor to pick them up, the inviting gestures, the sweet, innocent voices.
No, this orphanage, like most, do not exude this deep and complicated sadness, one lost in the sheer naivety of those who are afflicted with it. Perhaps it is a way of coping; perhaps it is a preordained thing, one that is given as a matter of course, included in the training one receives before being employed here. But all that does not matter. In the end, this place is one where companionship between innocent little hearts deign to replace the incomprehensible which they have lost, a 'somewhere' that promises hope to those residents who still want to seek it.
And yet, within that promise lies the curse of despair - the despair of countless farewells, the despair borne from fear - a fear that one will never see those faces again, a fear that things will not work out in a new home, a fear of, once again, being surrounded by people, and yet being completely alone.
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