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Tension on rue De la Barre
Every thursday riot clash in France.
Hi I'm Karim and everyday I write a new story, to evade from the routine or to question my deepest inner toughts. Come along and fuel your inspiration, 5 minutes a day!
The red curtains rose and the battle began as a pink paint bomb splattered on the Kevlar riot shields. No time was given to look your adversary in the eye, as blunt weapons swung with cutting speed, flying projectiles met mid-air, and fierce revolutionary palms cheered, waving together. The opposite crowds held with growing tension. French pavement stones piled up to fragile sculptures of anarchy, tentatively near the stiff boots of the riot control "CRS" police.
Their exhibition ended with the beginning of the mechanical police forward charge, launched by the official commander's whistle. The so built up clash was chaotic, a beating to the defenseless, an unfair fight all along, staged by dodgy so-called guardians of the law, guarding their own interests. Everyone merged into one disoriented mess, overflowing into side pathways all around. The chants of revolution paused, drowned out by loud, stumbling footsteps.
The chase continued into the darkness of the night until the rebels were tired, surrendering to the battle, catalyzing more determination for the ultimate fight.