godsake, look around you!" He threw his arms up like an actor on whom the camera focuses, blurring the graffiti and posters in the background. I looked away from him and met the eyes of a young policeman, one of the many lingering around, with a gas mask hanging from his belt. At that instant, a scooter turned into the street, deafening us all. A chance to drop everything and resume our walk, but no, he was not done yet. "They're a bunch of spoilt brats,” he said, spelling out each word, “with no idea what they're doing.” For a moment, I thought he was going to add, “just like you,” but he did not. Naturally, I took the chance to snap, “Really? Is that how you think? I got news for you, mister. The bastards are fighting for the future. Our future!” We spent another moment there, regarding, challenging each other. How to protest someone for lack of love? The chanting was clearer now: Step down! Step down! The sun had set and the policemen around us were shifting, tense with the expectation of another long night. “Come,” he said suddenly, grabbing my hand. “Let’s avoid this madness.”
On we went, avoiding madness one more time, as evening fell and the city moved with resolve towards turmoil.