This bright and dusty city is divided by walls and chain link fences. Down below me, a small protest march approaches. They are walking up thru a series of narrow chain link covered paths, barely wide enough for 3 or 4 people to pass, connecting wider chain liked plazas that maybe a few hundred people could fit into. I am standing in the corridor between the 2nd and 3rd plaza wearing a backpack. I can see and hear the march of a hundred or two hundred approaching, chanting. I can feel the eyes of many guards watching. There are some guards standing near me in the corridor wearing their bluish-grey coveralls and black boots. The energy peters out at the 2nd plaza with that sad sound. The chants growing quieter and voices dying off. I see thru the fences the colors and shapes of the crowd ambling off in different directions. A short brown woman wearing a blue traffic vest and holding a megaphone bravely trudges on chanting. Pulling about 7 marchers in tow. A trickle of 1s and 2s and 3s follow more slowly behind quietly. Suddenly, the air is filled with commotion and yelling. A tall, skinny, pale, feminine looking person wearing short runners shorts and bright tank top with a numbered placard runs along the exterior of the fence. A squad of guards chase after shouting. Three guards run up to the inside of the fence. At equal spacing they start slamming heavy white sandbags tied off on one end into the fence.

The fence bulges out at the runner as she flies past. Then the guards are chasing her on the inside and the outside. Before I know what is happening they are gone. As if one queue, a herd of 20-30 runners wearing the same runners clothing stampede along the fence. Their bodies and faces are a Monet of blurred colors, shapes, and sizes. Big smiles bounce above the dusty haze they are kicking up. As they pass by, they throw fliers and pamphlets and stickers and newspapers thru the fence. At first, in 1s and 2s and 3s and then someone turns over a shallow black milk crate and a flurry of stacked papers come cascading out in waterfalls. A whirlwind of colored paper flies thru the corridor. I recognize a few of the runners faces as they run by. It is so glorious! I whoop and holler and shout although my throat is hoarse and dry. The tall runner from before appears from behind to run a triumphant lap. She rejoins the herd and then they are gone. Flyers and pamphlets and stickers and newspapers cover the ground. In reds and yellows and greens and smiling faces and titles and flowery bubbly fonts, they are layered so deep that you can’t see the dust on the ground. I stare down grinning and take them in. Then I rush forward hungrily and stuff my backpack full.

Author’s Note: This is a dream I had. I wanted to fully capture the moment. I am lucky to have, in some sense, lived and experienced this joy. It was so glorious… This is a dream I had. I wanted to fully capture the moment. I am lucky to have, in some sense, lived and experienced this joy. It was so glorious…