This is the Guardian.

Today, there's been morning and reflection on the Queen's passing.

But what happens now?

On Thursday evening, under soft drizzle, I joined the crowds beginning to gather outside Buckingham Palace.

People were looking for a way to mark the moment, to pay respect, to feel part of history.

Do you mind describing to me what you're seeing here?

It's absolutely packed with people all over the place, all ages, different backgrounds, all generations,

and just having a solidarity, I think, that whether you want the monarchy or you don't, you have a real love for the Queen, because she's been so amazing and faithful.

The mood was muted.

Elderly couples huddled under umbrellas.

Teenagers took exaggeratedly sad selfies.

And against the palace railings, Taurus struggled to catch a glimpse of the official notice posting the Queen's death.

How'd you feel?

Heartbroken.

My martial words can use to describe it.

If you British, you know, if you don't, you don't. It's one of those things. It's like liking the rain. It's one of those things.

To some, it felt really personal.

I was sobbing. I didn't understand why or why, because I've never met her or anything.

But I felt like I've lost a member of my family. I dare a member of my family, that's what I felt.

I feel like I've lost my grandmothers.

To others, like this woman's 16-year-old daughter, it was a moment to question what might come next.

I feel like a lot of the Commonwealth of Country is my start to grow, because now I think Queen is a bit of what's keeping them together.

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