November 14, 2007

Normally, I am willing to lose my identity. But that day, as the crowd swarmed, I wanted a nametag and a sign to carry. I wanted to stop in a salon along the route and ask them to streak my hair purple.

Too many of us wore black. Too many of us knew the same chants. It left me powerless to raise my voice, knowing it would only be part of a solid block of noise.

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