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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.