After that first excited shout, people grow quiet. There isn't anything to do except watch the fire, and there isn't much to say, either.
A few people are still working: the firelighters who tend the flames (and who, when they're not doing that, stand ready with fire extinguishers), the people who are feeding the piles of memories into the fire. But most of the camp sits in a reverent hush.
Somewhere on the other side of the field, a few people start singing. "Make new friends, but keep the old…"
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