Imagine for a minute if you will your metro station. Or your bus stop. Or your bike route. Where you leave your house, in your neighborhood, which you picked carefully because you liked it, felt good there, wanted to raise your puppies and plants in a place just like that.
And imagine what I walked out into this afternoon.
I left this morning’s march feeling excited, happy, positive. So many people, so much protest, so many creative signs and happy people. I wondered for a minute how the police didn’t get the songs and chants stuck in their heads. And although I knew it would end badly (it always does), I don’t think I understood how ugly it would really get.
Look at what I saw this morning.
And then look at what it turned into.
And I may be ignorant in a million and one ways, but let me just say this, in this article in the Christian Science Monitor where someone is quoted as saying that the upper class lives in a kind of apartheid, in a bubble, away from the rest of us, I felt resonance. Because no one from the government is ever going to have to walk on that patch of broken glass, crossing that street with the broken traffic light to go into that broken down metro whose sign barely stands.
Mostly right now I am sad. This is my neighborhood. I chose it because I liked it. And I’m sorry to see this movement turning into something it was never meant to be. And I wonder who’s going to sweep up this giant effing mess, in all senses of the word.
oh and just so we’re clear, pics are copyrighted. No use without permission (which I reserve the right to grant or not). Thanks.